


Is This The Real Life?

by yanderekirklandchan



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Bohemian Rhapsody - Queen (Song), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Freddie Lives, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, redo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 02:54:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 60,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16652926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanderekirklandchan/pseuds/yanderekirklandchan
Summary: It's the day of Freddie's funeral and Roger is not taking it well, nobody is. But when Roger goes for a walk to clear his head, he wakes up over a decade earlier. He actually has a chance to change everything. So what does he do? He screams.***(Warning: Two major character deaths in the first chapter but they kind of don't  count? You'll see what I mean. Brief mentions of suicide in first chapter)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tada! Here you are, darlings. The story I promised you that wasn't a part of my series. Don't worry I will continue that too! Please tell me what you think of this in the comments! Enjoy :3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada! Here you are, darlings. The story I promised you that wasn't a part of my series. Don't worry I will continue that too! Please tell me what you think of this in the comments! Enjoy :3

Roger sat in his study, head in his hands, whisky glass beside him. A whole whisky bottle too. He felt as if he was suffocating, like the very oxygen in his lungs had turned to fire. How could it be true? How could Freddie be… Roger let out a stifled sob, screwing his eyes shut and pulling his hair as if purging the thought from his head could make it not true.

Freddie, joyous, ingenious, passionate Freddie, was dead. How could it be possible? Fred was so full of life, he was a fact of life. For years he’d just been a phone call away, barely a day passed when they didn’t meet, or at the very least talk. Never mind that Roger had faithfully stood by his best friend’s side and watch as his body faded away for months, years, now. It just couldn’t be true, no matter how much evidence there was.

The funeral had been a daze. Familiar faces, strangers, the monotonous mumble of words, explosive crying like a landmine, pitying looks, ‘I’m sorry for your loss', ‘Are you okay?’. Home again. Screaming, crying, punching, smashing, now whisky. He looked into the depths of the golden liquid, wishing he could drown in it. If the whole world died right new they’d all be with Freddie again.

There were soft footsteps outside before the door creaked open.  
“Daddy?”  
Roger looked up, seeing little Rory standing in the doorway, looking in with the big puppy dog eyes that all children seemed to have. He tried to speak but couldn’t get any words to escape his constricted throat.  
Rory shifted uncertainly on her small, chubby feet before walking in a few more strides “Daddy? It’s bed time.”

Roger was sure that the emotions within him would kill him. He was such a failure of a human. He let his friend die, now he couldn’t even be a parent to his children, had he ever been?  
With difficulty he managed a few syllables “Is it, honey?”  
Rory nodded “Mhm. You gonna read me a story, daddy?”  
There was cursing in the distance and the sound of heavier foot steps “Rory!” called Dominique from outside.

Rory looked guiltily down “Mummy says ‘m not supposed to bother you right now.” She hesitated for a moment “When is uncle Freddie comin' round again, daddy?” she said in a sad but innocent voice, as if she knew something bad had happened but didn’t understand what.  
Roger’s voice caught in his throat and he let out a pitiful sob, collapsing onto the desk, his glass being knocked over with a clatter next to him. The door opened and closed.  
“Rory, what are you doing here? Bed. Now.” a sigh “Come on, darling. Your father needs some time alone.”

Warm, soft arms wrapped around him for a moment, the scent of Dominique’s perfume engulfing him before her footsteps, and Rory’s, could be heard fading into the distance.  
True to their word, Roger was left alone. He didn’t lift his head from the desk until much later, when his face was red and numb from crying, his eyes ached and his throat was hoarse. He didn’t know what time it was but it was completely dark outside, the only thing visible outside the window being the large beads of water collected on the glass from the violent storm raging outside.

Trying to get himself together, Roger steadily pushed himself up off the table and onto his feet. He let out a gasp when the room blackened around him and flashing dots stabbed his eyes. He reached out blindly for something to hold onto, leaning forward so blood could rush back into his head. Slowly, vision returned and he was able to straighten without the immediate danger of collapse. He let go of the chair he’d latched onto, numbly walking out of the room.

He was still wearing his clothes from the funeral, bar the suit jacket he must have taken off (ripped, more likely) during his grief stricken rampage. He wanted to eradicate the clothes so that not even a single damn speck of dust remained to remind him of the day, the funeral, Freddie’s... He let out a shuddered breath. Well, it wouldn’t work because he felt as if the whole atmosphere, the very essence of the dark, dark day, had hurried beneath his skin, to make a permanent home there. If he wanted to be rid of it he’d have to cut the very flesh from his bones. Well, he wouldn’t mind that.

He didn’t know where he was going, his body walking on automatic. Out, out, he had to get out. He had to escape it all... Not caring enough to put on a coat for the cold or grab an umbrella for the rain, not even putting shoes on, he walked out into the dark of the night. He didn’t know whether Dominique’s worried calls from upstairs were real or imagined.

The bitter cold helped. His skin instantly turned to ice, his body finally feeling as numb as his mind did. It was a surprising thing to derive relief from, it was like... an equilibrium of sorts. The cold burned it’s way into his lungs so he could finally breath, the ice water cleared his mind; he couldn’t begin to make sense of it all yet but he was at least semi rational and conscious now.

Rational enough to take control of his movements. Where was he going? It was the same place he’d walked thousands of times going too and from his house and yet it was distorted, unrecognisable, shrouded in darkness. That was a world without Freddie. Physically shaking his head to ward off the thoughts, he looked around, eyes straining to make sense of the blurred silhouettes around him. It looked vaguely familiar. There was a river not too far away, if he wasn’t mistaken. That seemed as good a place as any to walk.

Veering in that vague direction, Roger continued on his journey. The grass beneath his feet squelched muddily, he could hardly keep his eyes open against the rain and wind, he was starting to lose feeling in his extremities but he didn’t care. He didn’t have it in him to care, he just kept on walking. Soon the sound of rushing water came closer and closer until he was at the edge of the river bank. His feet were submerge in shallow water where the river had burst it’s banks, flooding into the land. There had been a lot of heavy rain.

He walked as if in a trance, trailing along the river, which rushed dangerously high and rough. He didn’t know when he’d climbed onto a bridge but he found himself standing on one, looking into the crushing water bellow. With his sudden stop of motion, his memories came flooding. He, Freddie, Brian and John sitting in the old van, Freddie stealing Brian’s lucky guitar pick coin, Freddie’s stupid angry lizard shirt. His memories were so vivid he thought he saw them in the shapes of the white froth of water bellow.

Freddie laughing, Freddie playing the piano, Freddie on stage. His face was so ingrained on Roger’s conscience that it was tangible, he could see every little detail. Roger shakily climbed up to sit on the wobbly wooden ledge of the old bridge, legs swinging over so they hung above the raging river.

Freddie crying, Freddie breathing heavily as journalists feasted on him, Freddie hugging him after his first child had been born. He could practically see Freddie now, standing there so clear, so real, like he could reach out and touch him... Screwing his eyes shut, Roger pushed off from the side of the bridge, falling to the lethal water bellow before he could change his mind.

A crash, then pain, numbness, darkness, being thrown around helplessly, no idea of which way was up, colliding with something. Hard. The memories were so vivid now, playing like a tape. Was this what it was like to die? Freddie looked sad. He gave up fighting. This was the end.

.

.

.

Roger’s eyes snapped open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Tell me in the comments! Thanks so much for reading.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, darlings, a new chapter! I've got to say, wow. Thanks for all the support this story has received, it's mind blowing! I love to hear what you think about my stories, it really makes my day when you tell me your opinions in the comments. Thanks to everyone who's read this.
> 
> ALSO I have started a Bohemian Rhapsody Instagram account, it's 'bohemianrhapsodyroleplay' if you'd like to follow it. So far it's kinda weak cus I haven't had time to make anything of my own but I assure you I'll improve it. It's a roleplay account too so if any of you want to roleplay, or even just vent to me about how much you love these precious babies, DM me on there. Anyways, enjoy the chapter!

Roger blinked dumbly for a moment, staring at the ceiling. The room was lit warmly by the sun streaming through the pitiful curtains and the duvet perfectly shut out the light chill of the air. Roger frowned, hadn’t he killed himself? Was he in a hospital right now? Or maybe he’d been dreaming the whole time. A sense of hope arose within him at the idea, if he’d been dreaming then perhaps Freddie… but no. The thought of Fred dying was too horrible for anything his mind could conjure up, even in his worst nightmare. It could only be truth.

Roger closed his eyes, feeling physical pain at the thought of Freddie’s... Of what had happened. It was too awful to even think about. If he was in a hospital then they’d probably have taken some precautions, considering how he’d ended up in hospital. If he wanted to kill himself, properly this time, then he’d have to be careful to do so when no doctors or nurses were around to stop him.

He frowned, he didn’t feel as if he’d just been close to death. He was sure he’d cracked his skull against a rock in the river but there was no pain. Had he broken his neck and lost feeling? No, he’d be dead if that’d happened. Besides, his movements seemed fine. Sleepy but fine. Maybe he’d fallen asleep on his study desk, dreamt the whole business with jumping off the bridge. He opened his eyes to survey the room. It wasn’t his house, that was for sure. But it did look somehow familiar...

Roger let out a strangled gasp, sitting upright in his bed, which creaked horribly at the sudden movement. Panting, on the verge of panic, he looked around dazedly. This was that bloody barn thing that the band had gone to for recording their first proper album, the one under EMI. Why was he here? Why’d anyone take him here, for fucks sake?

He couldn’t handle the memories, he knew he couldn’t. One look at the room Freddie had created Bohemian Rhapsody and he’d flip. One look at the little kitchen they’d eaten in, the sofa they’d watched TV on, the chicken pen they’d had to wrestle chickens back into when they broke free and ran around the house. The memories made him smile, even as tears burnt his eyes.

As he tried to regulate his breathing, feeling more than a little hysterical, there was a shuffling outside. The creaking of footsteps against the old wooden floor, a soft muffled voice, a few piano keys. Roger stood shakily, at his wits end. He had no idea what the hell was happening and, quite honestly, at this point a fat squirrel in the next room would have him in the midst of the nervous breakdown that was threatening to engulf him.

“Oh bloody hell.” He muttered to himself, starting to walk out the door to check it out.  
His eyed were owlishly wide, on edge for anything. He didn’t know what exactly he was expecting but something wasn’t right here. He didn’t know what was happening and, quite frankly, he didn’t like that one bit. When he realised where the sound was coming from, he closed his eyes, letting out a pained breath. Freddie’s old room. Of course it bloody well was. Cautiously, Roger pushed the door open. What he saw had his eyes so wide it was a wonder they didn’t fall out and his blood run as cold as ice.

Freddie was sitting there at the piano, fingers playing expertly over the keys. At Roger’s approach, he turned around and looked at him with a confused but amused expression.  
“Is everything alright, Rog?”  
At the sound of his voice, Roger snapped. He screamed, the sound filled with a combination of grief, confusion and straight up terror. He fled the room, running on automatic to the bathroom, stumbling and wobbling in his manic rush but not daring to stop for a second. Behind him, he heard the startled, worried calls of Freddie, who ran right after him.

Eyes watering with the sheer emotional exhaustion of whatever the hell was happening to him, Roger slammed the bathroom door closed behind him, locking the door quickly and sitting on the lid of the toilet seat. He rocked back and forward, trying to regulate his breathing or make sense of this madness. Was that it? Had he gone insane? Had he died and gone to heaven? Hell? He didn’t feel dead. How would he even tell? There was a knocking at the door, causing Roger to groan in pain and nausea, his head pounding.  
“Roger, please, open the door! What ever is the matter?”

Roger tuned it out. This couldn’t be real, this couldn’t be happening. What even was ‘this’? What was he supposed to do about it? Maybe if he ignored it, everything would just go away. Did he want it to go away, though? Had he not just been wishing and praying to every cosmic force he could think of that he could see Freddie’s face one more time? He... He couldn’t breath.

Something cold touched his arm, the sensation like being thrown into a pool in the winter. He gasped and jumped back, eyes wide and staring in front of him. What he saw very nearly gave him a heart attack. Freddie was right there in front of him, crouching down to be at eye level, face full of caring concern. He opened his mouth to let out a petrified scream but Freddie clamped a hand over his mouth, the awful cold feeling hitting Roger face on this time. He let out a noise somewhere between a whimper and a shudder, whether from the cold feeling or being gagged by a dead man, he didn’t know.

“Roger, and I say this because I love you darling, shut the hell up.” Freddie said, voice commanding and serious, with the slightest hint of humour. Roger, too dazed to form any coherent thoughts, simply nodded.  
“Yes?” Freddie said, sounding surprised at his compliance “Alright. So, when I take my hand away you won’t scream?”  
Roger nodded again, eyes wide, chest rising up and down forcefully in a shallow breathed panic.  
Freddie hesitated for a moment before nodding, “Okay, here we go.” He lifted his hand. The moment he did, Roger opened his mouth to scream, terror and panic set deep within him. Freddie cursed and quickly covered his mouth again.

“Quiet, darling. People will think you’re insane if you go around screaming like that.” Freddie said in an exasperated tone. Roger let out a tearful whimper, body going limp as he gave up, deciding to just let this hell ride take him where it would. A salty tear of frustration and exhaustion passed straight through the other man’s hand and into Roger’s mouth.  
Freddie’s eyes softened “Hush now, none of that, dear.” He said gently, brushing the wet tear streak away. Roger shifted uncomfortably at the cool silky sensation of his touch.

Freddie bit his lip, looking Roger up and down in an assessing sort of way, like he was a delicate problem that had to be taken care of in the most careful way.  
“Roger, do you trust me?” he said, looking at him with those stupid puppy dog eyes.  
Roger was taken off guard by the look and the words. He considered for a moment, the situation was a mile past crazy right now but of course he trusted Freddie, he always did. He nodded.

Freddie smiled at that “Good. I’m glad to hear it. Roger, I wouldn’t let you get hurt, alright? You have nothing to be afraid of, everything will be just fine, yes? Trust me now, I know you’re confused and scared but just go with it, everything will be okay. Okay?”  
Roger hesitantly nodded again. When he did so, Freddie let go of him. Strangely, Roger ever so slightly missed the silky cool sensation. This time he didn’t scream.

Roger took the moment to properly look at the other man now. It was Freddie, but it was a different one to the man he’d just seen at the piano. That man had been Freddie from years ago, from when they’d actually been here recording. This Freddie was... his Freddie, in his full short haired gay moustached glory. He was the one that Roger remembered from only a few days ago, though he no longer looked sickly and had a good few more kilograms on his body.

But he too was different. He was... Silver. Instead of his golden skin and chocolate hair, he was made up of tones of white and grey, a shimmer sheen to it all. And he was see through too. Looking down, Roger noticed that he was actually sitting through the edge of the bathtub. He was... Well, he was exactly what Roger pictured a ghost to look like.

He reached out to touch Freddie and his hand passed straight through him, all he felt was the tingling cold feeling in his hand where he touched the man. He pulled his hand back, looking at it in awe, rubbing his fingers together. Freddie gave him a soft smile and reached out for his hand. This time, Roger felt it. The cold feeling was still there but there was a pressure too, as if something solid was actually touching him rather than feeling like putting your hand in a bucket of water. He squeezed Freddie’s hand and could feel every little detail of it, just like he remembered.

He looked up from where he’d been staring at their hands to meet Freddie’s gaze.  
“I’ve missed you so much, Freddie.” He said in a whisper, not daring to speak any louder, as if the noise may make this all fade away. His eyes stung with tears that he just couldn’t blink away. Freddie smiled sadly back at him, lifting his hand and kissing it.  
“Really, Roger, I’ve only been gone a few days and look at the state of you.” He joked lightly “This proves it, you need me.”  
Roger nodded forcefully “Yes. Yes, Fred, I really do.” He said, crying openly as he gripped his hand tightly as if his life depended on it.

A loud knocking at the door had Roger spinning around to look in that direction. He let out a startled yelp, falling forward when Freddie’s hand disappeared beneath his grip. He stared in wide eyed shock at the empty space on the ground where Freddie used to be. He fell to his knees, hands desperately patting over the floor as if he could find any hint of him left. He tried to push back the panicked feeling that he was gone again. No. No, he couldn’t be gone again. Not when he’d only just come back!

The knocking continued, “Roger? It’s Brian. Please open the door. We just want to know you’re okay, yeah? We’ll leave you alone if that’s what you need, just... The three of us are worried sick about you, Rog.”  
Three. The three of us. Roger hardly dared let himself hope. Of course, he’d seen Freddie earlier but had he really? Was he going insane? Well, there was only one way to find out. He opened the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well there you are, darlings. A new chapter! I hope you like it, tell me what you think in the comments. Also, again I have created a Bohemian Rhapsody Instagram 'bohemianrhapsodyroleplay' go check it out. It's a roleplay account so just DM me if you'd like to roleplay or even just to chat! Tell me in the comments if you have difficulty finding it and I'll try to help :) Anyways, enjoy :3

Opening the door, Roger found himself face to face with the man who’d been haunting his… everything, really. He let out a soft squeaking sound and tried not to stare too much. Freddie was there. Freddie was standing right bloody there. Honestly, he didn’t know how anything could surprise him any more. Then again, how could he not be surprised when Freddie fucking Mercury was standing Right. Bloody. There.

He was alive. Freddie was alive again. Roger felt his eyes burning with tears, which he tried very hard to stave off. He’d give anything for this, he’d literally give his life for this, and it was happening. Right? He was not entirely sure he wasn’t delirious or dead or in some comatose dream state, he’d have to test that out some time but for now he let himself enjoy the moment. He was so happy it hurt! He was sure that having a heart attack was entirely plausible from the strain the poor organ was in right now.

His eyes surveyed Freddie, looking him up and down. He let out a hysterical, joyous laugh when he observed the steady rise and fall of his chest. Oh, the beautiful little things. Freddie was so… so alive. Not only in the normal, extravagant sense that people usually used to describe him with his quick wit, bright style and confidence.

No, in the tiny ways. The way his skin had a healthy flushed undertone of blood pumping through his body as it should. The way nothing was ever still, not really, muscles twitched and ligaments moved, his whole body was coursing with chemical energy ready to be used. His eyes… there was not a more beautiful sight Roger could name. They were so seeing, observing everything like eyes were made to do. They held emotion, a doorway to a living breathing thinking human's brain. Never still for a second. Right now they were looking straight at him...

It was then, while grinning like an idiot, that Roger realised his friends had been talking to him.  
“-ger? Roger, you with us, buddy?” John said gently, a highly concerned frown marring his face.  
Back in the moment, Roger observed that Brian had a soft but firm hand on his shoulder, as if both afraid he’d accidentally hurt him but also that he may topple over at any second without support. Roger swallowed, thinking about ghost Freddie’s (the idea gave him a full body shudder) earlier words. So much for not seeming crazy, then.

He nodded, straightening and trying to look like he hadn’t just had a thousand breakdowns in the matter of a few days.  
“Yeah. Yup. With you loud and clear… I-I mean, hearing you loud and clear. And I’m with you. Why wouldn’t I be? I’m fine. Everything’s dead normal. What? N-no… not dead. Everything’s not dead. Just normal. What’s normal is no one being dead. R-right? Why would someone being dead be normal?” Roger gasped for breath from his panicked ramblings. Okay… that could have gone far better. In his defense, he’d just died. Probably? He deserved a break.

Roger frowned in confusion when he heard Freddie laughing. He turned to the man in front of him but he wasn’t making a sound, just exchanging a very worried look with Brian. Roger followed the direction the sound was coming from and let out a huff, of amusement or insult he didn’t know. His Freddie... Ghost Freddie was leaning against the wall for support as he attempted very hard to contain his laughter, with little success if the explosive guffaws were anything to go by.  
“ ‘E-Everything's not d-dead'.” He quoted through waves of laughter, clutching his stomach “Bloody hell, Rog, you sound so fucking crazy!” he exclaimed, cracking up.

“Shut up.” He scowled, blushing hotly, though the sight of Freddie so light hearted and lively (which seemed to be a bit paradoxical) was very nice and the sound of his laughter made some of the permanently situated leaden weight within him lift. He realised his mistake when his words caused Brian to frown.  
“What?” he said, eyes scanning critically over Roger, in a rather maternal way, in his opinion. Roger’s eyes instinctively moved to the place where ghost Freddie was, which was mistake number two.

“What’re you looking at?” He said, turning on his heel to follow Roger’s gaze.  
Roger felt a moment of panic, was Brian going to see ghost Freddie? How would he explain that? Could anyone else even see ghost Freddie? His eyes flicked over to the spot but… there was nothing there. Brian, too, seemed to come to this conclusion as he turned back to Roger, looking even more confused.

“You were talking in the bathroom earlier.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Roger bit his lip, trying to come up with an excuse.  
“Yeah… yeah, I was.” He said, thinking on his feet, “It was panic exercises. Y'know, to help make a panic attack stop. I-I had one when I woke up, I must’ve had a bad dream or something. Can’t remember anymore. That’s why I ran to the bathroom, I thought I was going to be sick.”  
Well, that excuse did nothing to ease the worried looks on his friends' faces but at least they were no longer looking at him like he was crazy.

Brian sighed “Rog… you haven’t had panic attacks this bad since school. Just… don’t over work yourself, yeah? And all of us are here for you if you need us.”  
Roger felt a swell of emotion within him. What did he ever do to deserve such friends? He also felt bitter guilt. He should have gone to Brian and John when he was feeling off, not gone and jumped off a bridge. If that version of them were still out there somewhere, what must they be thinking? To have lost two of their best friends in a matter of days? But at the time it’d felt selfish to dump his problems on them when they’d be feeling just as bad. If this was all a comatose dream, what’d he say to them when he woke up? How could he look them in the eyes?

“You're awfully quiet, Fred.” John said, drawing attention away from Roger, mercifully. Roger, too, looked at Freddie (Freddie, Freddie, alive Freddie, alive, dead Freddie, forever lost). It was true, it was highly unusual to see Fred this quiet.

Freddie seemed startled at the sudden attention and gave a sheepish smile “Oh, it’s nothing to concern your pretty little head over, dear. I just… was startled, is all. Seeing Roger like that, the mind does jump to conclusions. I’d just had the most awful dream too…” he said, trailing off with a distant look.

Brian clapped his hands together, making everyone collectively jump. He grinned at that, the usual positive attitude they regularly had starting to return.  
“Too many bad dreams. It’s this damn place, and the pressure, I’ll bet. I say we have the day off to calm down and get used to our new location. An aclimitisation period, if you will. Let’s take the day to, I don’t know, relax, explore, have fun!”  
Freddie grinned “ ‘Have fun'? I’m surprised, Bri, I didn’t think you had it in you. Way to go, astronomy.” He said, starting to make his way downstairs.

John followed “I’ll put the kettle on.” He declared, prompting Freddie to sing his dramatized take on ‘Polly put the kettle on'. Brian followed the pair, pausing at the top of the stairwell.  
“Coming, Rog?”  
Roger nodded but remained where he was. After a moment, Brian continued his way down stairs. Alone again, Roger turned around and stared at the place by the wall he’d last seen Freddie’s spirit. He walked over to the spot, leaning down to touch the wall. He saw nothing new but fancied that the air might have become slightly colder when he passed through the spot.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you go, a new chapter! Tell me what you think in the comments ;3 And remember if you want to roleplay or talk DM me on Instagram at 'Bohemian rhapsody roleplay'. Also IT'S THE 24th TOMORROW IM SO SAAAAD

Roger tried very hard to look like everything was normal but judging from the looks he kept getting from his three friends, he was failing miserably. He sighed and nursed his coffee like it was whisky, perhaps if he numbed his mind enough with caffeine things would start to make sense.  
“Toast, Rog?” Brian asked from across the kitchen. Roger in all honestly had no appetite but nodded anyway, he didn’t want to worry everyone more, and Brian was always on his case when he tried to skip a meal.

He felt a pang of sadness, where was Brian from his time? He worried so much over the little things, what’d he think about him jumping off a bloody bridge? Roger dearly hoped that his timeline had stopped existing the moment he’d woken up here, he hadn’t thought about how his death would affect his friends. After everything they’d already been through, how could he be so selfish? He hadn’t been thinking, he’d been in a complete state. Well, he was still in a state, really, but he wasn’t delirious anymore. Said the man seeing ghosts and having breakfast with his friends from the past.

He realised that everyone was staring at him and looked around for some clue as to why.  
“Pardon?” he asked, assuming someone must have said something.  
“I asked what you’d like on your toast.” Brian said, giving him that concerned look that made Roger want to hide. He kicked himself, why was he such a burden to his friends? He didn’t try to be difficult but he knew he was always causing more worry and trouble than he helped.

“Um. It’s fine just like that, thanks.” Roger said quickly, wanting to get the attention off himself. Brian frowned but handed him the plain toast. Too late Roger realised that he never had plain toast, none of them did. That was a habit he’d picked up from all the future nights he drank himself to sleep and woke up with a hangover, or the times he’d simply felt too ill to eat anything. He sighed to himself, it happened far more than was probably healthy.

He nibbled on the corner of his toast, trying to figure out what to do now. Did he really just go along with this as if it was normal? If this was all a hallucination then he may very well be walking around talking to himself, reaching for objects that weren’t there. ‘Going along with this' could get him locked up forever. If he tried to explain that he’d though he was talking to his dead best friend then he’d only make it worse. However, on the flip side if this was real and he waltzed around talking about the future he’d also be straight into an asylum.

He tried to think about how plausible it was that he’d just gone insane. Answer: very. The mixture of exhaustion, stress and grief from Freddie’s illness then death was surely enough to push any of them over the edge. He just must be the weakest one. At the thought of Freddie dying and Freddie’s death, Roger felt a sharp physical pain in his chest, doubling over on the table as tears burnt his eyes. Even if this was real and he could fix it all, even of Freddie’s ghost was caringly beside him, that didn’t make it okay. Not by a long shot. No, nothing was bloody okay.

He didn’t even care to try to fight back the tears, he couldn’t even if he tried. It was real. That was all that mattered, Freddie really did suffer, the world really did lose it’s brightest light, he lost his best friend. Nothing mattered. He remembered now why he’d jumped off the bridge. Because it was true, as long as Freddie had truly died then nothing mattered.

He was sure Brian and Deacy would understand. They had to feel it too, they must. Dominique: well, she may never forgive him but now at least she could find the husband she deserved. His kids… they deserved a better daddy, a daddy who could look after them and play with them, not one who would forever make them feel sad when they sensed his grief. They’d hurt less losing him like this than having him not be the dad that he should be. 

He put down his coffee, not able to hold it in his shaking hands. Around him, he heard the skid of a chair and alarmed calls as his friends came to him to see if he was alright as he sobbed loudly against the kitchen table. Warm hands on him. Gentle; cautious, as if he might break if they pressed too hard. He just might. ‘Are you alright?’. Why did everyone always ask him that when he was burning? He really did genuinely hurt.

There was a sensation like someone had stabbed him between the ribs and his head had surely been shot to hurt that much. Maybe it was a sign that he really was in a hospital bed somewhere and his senses were kicking in more. Maybe he was still under the water and everything that’d happened had done so in a few moments, that was how dreams worked, wasn’t it? Maybe he was just so grief stricken that it hurt. They were all so plausible. Why did nothing make sense? Why did it hurt so bad he could barely breath? Did any of it even matter? Freddie was gone.

He could faintly hear Brian giving him breathing instructions in a gentle but firm tone. He tried hard to follow them, feeling he was suffocating all the while. Was that evidence he was under water? Or could he just not fucking function properly? He could smell Deacy's aftershave and feel heat radiating; he must be right there. Where was Freddie? His panic got worse. He lifted his head from the counter and looked around with a manic conviction. There. Freddie was standing next to him, looking down at him with big, beautiful concerned eyes.

“Freddie.” He exclaimed tearfully, latching onto him with a firm, inescapable hug. He hung onto him desperately, burying his face in the man’s shirt as he cried, like Freddie was a lifeboat in the middle of the vast ocean. He didn’t know why Freddie didn’t just push him away, he was making such a scene for no apparent reason. But he did quite the opposite, holding him patiently and running a gentle hand through his hair, murmuring words of comfort. Freddie. Sweet, kind Freddie. Dead Freddie. Alive, right there Freddie.

He didn’t know how much later it was that he finally stopped. Long enough for him to have gone stiff and numb. Long enough for his body to have been squeezed dry of tears. His face was hot and sticky, his tear ducts stung from over use. Still, though his throat was raw, he let out a few more feeble, tearless sobs. He was completely limp against Freddie’s front. Fred’s unwavering, firm hold was all that kept him from falling to the floor. Roger doubted he’d really notice, let alone mind if that happened.

“Is he conscious?” Someone asked. Deacy, from the voice.  
“Yes, I think so.” Freddie answered. Roger could hear his voice reverberate through his chest.  
“Do you think we should carry him over to the couch?” Brian asked in a worried tone. They all sounded worried. With the little strength he had, he turned his head against Freddie’s chest so he could look into the room at his friends. The dull morning light stung his eyes.  
Brian smiled softly “Hey.” Roger tried to smile back, he thought he managed a twitch of his lips.  
“Not gonna lie, mate, you look like shit.” Deacy joked, though his eyes were glowing with concern.

Roger shifted, attempting to sit up. His head pounded like crazy, but he didn’t hurt anymore. Well, there was a constants dull throbbing but that’d been there ever since… He didn’t need to think about that, the last thing any of them needed was him breaking down again. Freddie seemed reluctant to let him go when Roger sat up. Meeting his eyes, he looked to most concerned off all. There was also a dark, glazed look there, like he was reliving some distant memory.

“Roger… if that was a panic attack that was pretty fucking awful.” Brian said, frowning. He shrugged in response. At least he wasn’t lying now, it had become a panic attack in the end. Was there a medical term for when someone freaked out from time travel? If there was he never got taught it in either his biology or dentistry courses.

Deacy looked at him scrutinisingly “Rog, are you sure you’re okay? You can always tell us, you know that.” He said it in that way that Roger knew meant no matter what he said, his friends were going to all be trying to figure out what was wrong.  
Still he just smiled weakly “Yeah, I am fine. Like I said, woke up weird. Maybe I’m coming down with something too. It’s nothing to worry about.” Yup. They definitely didn’t believe him, he hadn’t expected them to. But what was he supposed to say?

Brian nodded skeptically “Alright. Well, you can lie in today. Nobody would blame you, Rog. We’d stay with you, of course, to keep you company.”  
Roger shook his head “No, there’s no need for that. I’m fine. I’ll be all better once I have a shower to clear my head.”  
“Don't.” They all looked at Freddie in surprise. The worry in his eyes had not dissipated, if anything it was worse. “…That is, if you’re ill that may not be a good idea. What if you pass out in there?”

Brian nodded with a frown “Good point.”  
Deacy hummed in thought “You could leave the door unlocked. We wouldn’t come in unless we hear you fall or something. And if you don’t come out in twenty minutes, we’ll knock to make sure you’re okay. How about that?”  
Roger was of the opinion that they were over reacting entirely too much but he complied “Sure. If it makes you worry warts feel better.” Never mind the fact that he’d almost cried himself unconscious a few moments ago so their concern was justified.

He walked up to the shower, grabbing a towel and change of clothes. Behind him, he heard footfalls on the steps. He turned to see Freddie, looking like he wanted to say something.  
“You alright, Fred?”  
Freddie looked at him with intense eyes for a moment before speaking “Just… You can talk to us if anything is the matter. We love you, darling. You’re not alone, okay?”

Freddie fixed him with a searching look. Roger was taken aback by the sudden declaration. He nodded with a soft smile “Okay, Freddie. I know.” Hesitantly, Freddie walked away, pausing for a moment to look back over to him at the stairwell before leaving. Roger frowned in puzzlement. Why did he get the feeling that wasn’t what Freddie had actually wanted to say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you thought! Until next week :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit different this time! POV Freddie to commemorate the day <3

There was a sound of crying. That’s all there was at first, everything else seemed to fade into existence around the sound. It was soft but still completely heart wrenching, as if something so horrible had happened that there was nothing the person could do anymore but cry helplessly, too exhausted to even be loud about it. It was a sound that made anyone with even a hint of empathy in their soul compelled to search down the person making such a sound and help them. Freddie searched for the source of the sound with an extreme sense of urgency, but he couldn’t remember why. He ran, feeling as if time was running out, but the ground would not move beneath his feet. It was like he wasn’t touching it at all. Somewhere upstairs a child whimpered softly.

Then, he was in a room. He’d been in a corridor before, he thought, it’d been so blurry. A study, he reckoned. Freddie quickly realised he wasn’t alone. The crying was a lot louder now, it sounded even worse now. Freddie grimaced, his heart clenching in sympathy for the poor soul, whatever misfortune had befallen them. He turned to see who it was an if he could help but froze on the spot when he did. It was Roger. His sympathy went to full blown panic to see his friend in such a state.  
“Roger?” he called out in a worried voice, running over to his friend. He’d definitely not been quiet but it was as if Roger hadn’t heard him at all, he just kept crying.

It was such a painful sight. His head hung limply and he leant heavily against the desk, looking about ready to collapse. The sobs shook his whole body which looked frailer than Freddie had ever seen it, like he’d spent days, weeks, even months failing to properly look after himself. He frowned, he’d only seen Roger yesterday and he seemed happy and healthy as ever. Better than usual, even, with excitement for creating their new record. He’d definitely not been so… skeletal. Freddie couldn’t see his face and was guilty relieved, he didn’t think he could bare seeing his dear friend’s face contorted in the pain he was apparently feeling. Why? Why was he hurting so? What could possibly have happened?

And why hadn’t he heard him? Perhaps Roger had been too caught up in his sadness over whatever had happened to take notice of his surroundings. Freddie moved closer to investigate. Roger appeared to be holding something red… Shit. Panic and urgency shot through Freddie’s being as he realised that the ‘red’ in Roger’s hands was blood. A lot of it. Glass looked like the suspect, there was a lot of it smashed around the desk and on the floor, it appeared to be the remains of a whisky glass. Rogers feet and lower legs hadn’t escaped the fate, they were bleeding sluggishly, they must have been for a while judging from the stains on the carpet. Maybe that was why Roger was crying? No, his cries were definitely emotional rather than from any physical pain. It was as if he hadn’t even felt the glass at all.

Freddie quickly rushed the distance between them, intending to pay those wounds some much needed attention, and give Roger a good hug too. But just before he got there, Roger stood abruptly, swaying alarmingly on his feet. Freddie froze, surprise by the sudden movement.  
“Roger?” he called out again, cautiously. Again, no response. Roger walked towards the door, making Freddie wince at the bloody footprints he left behind him.  
“Roger, darling, please sit down. Rest. Roger, stop that, you’re hurting yourself!” he begged but to no avail. Roger just continued moving mechanically. He reached out to open the door, leaving bloody prints over the wood. It was a haunting sight.

The door swung closed and Freddie ran to follow him but it was so hard, like running through quicksand. When he got to the door, try as he may, he couldn’t for the life of him open it. Freddie was freaking out now. Roger was in no state to be left alone right now. What’d he do if, right now behind that door, Roger had collapsed? Hurt himself? He’d never forgive himself. Stupid damned door!

He was next to a river. It was so dark that he couldn’t actually see said river but he could certainly hear it, rushing and crashing in a most violent sounding way. The sheer brutal force the sound conveyed made Freddie shiver. This was the type of conditions you read about in newspapers when some form of tragedy happened. Humans might occupy the darkest crevasses of the planet but when it came down to it the smallest portion of nature’s true strength could crush them.

Freddie’s eyes strained to try to make out where the river was, it wouldn’t do to fall in. He couldn’t see the water, it was pitch black like looking into an abys. He could, however, see a bridge. That must be where the water was, he concluded. Eyes adjusting more, he was horrified to make out the form of a person standing on the edge of the bridge. Fuck, he recognised that silhouette. It was Roger.  
“Roger! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he cried out, horrified. There was non response, no damn fucking response. He was beyond panic, full blown terror gripped Freddie like a vice.

“Please, Roger! Please get down from there!” he begged, running closer. Why was he so far away? “We can talk about this. I swear, whatever it is it’s not as bad as it seems, just get down. We can work it out together! You don’t have to do this… it’ll be okay. Please, Roger, please I’m begging you step down.” He was positively sick with worry. The thought of losing Roger, to his own hand no less, was too horrible. It couldn’t happen. It couldn’t be true. But it would be reality if he didn’t do something. Every running stride he took towards the bridge took him only a fraction of the way closer. It was so hard to move, like trying to move in sleep paralysis.

Finally he reached the damned thing.  
“Roger!” he exclaimed, his voice lost in the wind, hidden behind the bone crashing rush of the water. The moment he was within reach of the pale, trembling form of his friend, he reached out to grab him. Even if Roger wasn’t rational enough to hear him, that didn’t mean Freddie couldn’t pull him back to safety. It seemed like he was just in time, too. Roger’s form had tensed and he was meaning forward: he was about to jump.

Freddie reached out to grab him… his hand passed straight through. It was barely a second later that Roger fell forward.  
“NO!” Freddie let out a horrified cry, arms grabbing desperately at Roger. Every single time his fingers passed right through, right until his body was too far to reach. Freddie could do nothing but watch in wide eyed horror as Roger’s limp form was swallowed by the crashing white foam. It was too dark to see beneath the water but Freddie’s mind morbidly imagined the dark shadow of his friend being thrown roughly around down there. The water was too loud but he imagined he could hear bones cracking.

He gagged rawly, clutching at the wooden side of the bridge, leaning over to throw up but nothing came out. In horror, he realised the white foam had turned red.

.

.

.  
Freddie woke up with a gasp, gripping his sheets desperately as he panted in a panic, his mind trying to make sense of it all. He let out a relieved, crazed laugh. It was a dream. It was just a dream. They were at the farm, Roger was okay. He was alive. It was okay. He panted, running a hand over his face. He’d never been so terrified in his life. But it was okay, it was a dream, he insisted to himself. Still, he felt an anxious sense of impending doom, his skin tingling unpleasantly, like a cold sweat.

He stood shakily, there was no way he could sleep again after that. Needing something to do with his hands, he sat at his piano, pressing down a few experimental notes. There was a noise in the room next door. His breath caught. There, see? Roger was there, awake. Alive. No need to worry. He took a deep breath to calm his jittery nerves and started to play.

He’d almost forgotten his worries when his door swung open. Freddie turned around to see Roger standing in the doorway, looking rather ruffled.  
“Is everything alright, Rog?” he asked in mild amusement when he continued to stand there. Because why should he be worried? It was just a dream after all. If he thought it enough he may believe it.

Any semblance of calm he’d managed to form since waking up disappeared when Roger screamed. The sound and he look of sheer horror on his face would haunt Freddie forever. It was like something out of a fevered nightmare and every hair on his body raised in alarm. Regaining himself, he stood to run after him.

The dream couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t be! It was a dream, after all. Right?  
*******  
Freddie stood anxiously in the corridor, staring at the closed door of the bathroom Roger was in. Was Roger suicidal? No. No, of course not. It was just a stupid dream, from stress that was all. But if that was so why did his blood run cold at the suggestion of Roger having a shower? Memories came into his head of all those stories of people finding loved one’s bodies in watery pools of their own blood, hidden for too long behind locked bathroom doors. He shuddered at the mental image. No. Roger was okay.

He strained his ear to try and hear any sounds of life. He was almost headfirst into a full blown panic until he finally heard something: the opening and closing of a soap bottle. He’d be able to hear, wouldn’t he, if Roger fell over, bleeding out. Not if he purposefully lay down first. He screwed his eyes shut, pulling his hair in an attempt to get the imagery out of his head. No, Roger was alright. Just having a shower. Besides, they had permission to go in there if he didn’t come out. That’d e in time to save him, right? He wouldn’t have agreed to those conditions if he’d been planning on killing himself. Right? It didn’t help that the sound of the shower water was so very similar to the sound of the river.

Roger wasn’t suicidal. He wasn’t depressed. Nothing was wrong. Then why had he cried like that? It was just like in his dream, except this time he’d been able to hold Roger. He shuddered, the thought of being helpless while his best friend died would be scarred into his mind. He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off Roger when he’d cried. He could touch him. If he could touch him that meant he could stop him. Freddie let out a painful, staggered breath. He stood there and waited desperately for the sound of the shower turning off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so. Angst. XD Did you like the new chapter? Tell me what you think in the comments! Also, remember if you want to roleplay or chat just DM me on Instagram at 'bohemianrhapsodyroleplay' :) till next time!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally! A new chapter! I've got exams and applications right now and I'm so exhausted, I genuinely fell asleep writing this so it was a bit delayed XD Well, here it is, at long last. Enjoy :3

“Is there any particular reason why we are walking?” Roger huffed, the mud on the hem of his trousers was a good ten centimeters high at least, and his shoes were practically irretrievable.  
“Yes, these fields seem to go on for miles, and they don’t appear to have any perceivable purpose other than to be a nuisance.” Freddie whined.  
Brian sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose “In case you haven’t noticed, there aren’t any roads, even if there were we don’t have a car right now. So this is the only way to get to the village.”

Roger strained his eyes on the horizon “I’m starting to think you’ve made this village up. What’s so great about it anyway that it deserves all this effort?”  
Brian sighed again, causing Roger to grin. It was so fun exasperating his friend. “We are going because it is fun.”  
“If you say so, darling.” Freddie muttered under his breath.  
Brian continued as if he hadn’t heard “In a few days the lot of you will be begging to be let out of that farm and we won’t be able to leave. So, enjoy it while we have it. And stop complaining, you big babies.”

“Unless you’re getting too tired out, Roger.” Deacy said, looking over to Roger with an assessing, concerned look.  
Brian paled slightly “Shit, yeah. I’m sorry, Rog, I totally forgot. How are you feeling? We can turn back if you’re not up to this.”  
Roger shifted uncomfortably, he somehow felt like he was betraying his friends when he let them go on with their ‘illness’ assumption. They were being so nice and understanding. What’d they do if they knew what he’d done? He shivered, he was glad that, whether from being in a coma or time traveling, he didn’t have to deal with the upset of Brian and Deacy over his sui– incident.

“Guys, like I keep on saying. I’m perfectly fine.” He insisted.  
“Are you sure, my dear? There’ll probably be a medical facility of some sort there. It surely wouldn’t hurt to get a quick check up.” Freddie suggested, that dark, distant worried look back.  
Roger huffed “Not you too, Freddie. What’ll it take for me to convince you that I’m fine?”  
“Probably actually being fine would be a start, darling.” A voice right next to Roger piped in. Roger yelped and jumped a good foot in the air, feeling like his soul had exited his body. His friends' attention was on him immediately.

“Roger! Are you alright?” Brian asked frantically.  
Roger, still shaken, nodded “Yeah, just… I thought I stepped on a bee. I was wrong.” He waited for his friends' hackles to go back down, trying very hard to ignore ghost Freddie striding leisurely beside him. He felt a bit bad ignoring him, he must be so very lonely. Being, y'know, dead and all. The thought would never not make him sick to the stomach. Still, he couldn’t just wall around talking to ghost Freddie when he felt like it, he’d be put in a psychiatric ward.

“Don’t do that.” He whispered, lowly, trying not to be heard by the other three.  
Ghost Freddie looked at him with earnest innocence “Do what?”  
Roger sighed to himself “Talk to me, scare me. They’re going to think I’m insane.”  
“And aren’t you?”  
Roger huffed, though there was a leaden feeling in his stomach, “Not helpful. I thought imaginary friends were supposed to be on your side.”  
“Who are you talking to, Rog?” Deacy asked with a frown. Shit.  
“Oh… uhhh.. Nobody. I was just cursing all this mud.” He plastered a smile on “I won’t taint your pretty little mind by repeating what I said.” He got uncertain, scrutinising looks for that but it seemed to placate John.  
“Well that was close. You pretty little liar, I never knew you were so devious, my dear.”

Roger clenched his teeth, trying hard not to react to ghost Freddie’s words. When silence continued to prevail from beside him, Roger risked a peak side wards. Ghost Freddie was looking vey subdued, upset, lonely. Roger’s heart clenched and he sighed. Slowly, carefully, he moved his arm so his hand subtly brushed Freddie’s. The icy feeling returned. His hand passed straight through but Freddie seemed to feel it anyway was he turned to look at Roger. His own gaze was fixed forward, but his hand stayed in Freddie’s icy pool of a hand. Future Freddie beamed brightly and took Roger’s hand in his own, this time Roger’s hands were touching something vaguely solid.

He kept his hand close to his side, so it looked like he was just hanging it casually, but didn’t let go of his grip. Luckily, the others didn’t appear to notice. That was good. How was he supposed to explain it? ‘Oh, why am I holding my hand out? Just, y'know, holding the ghost of Freddie’s hand. By the way he’s from the future, I am too. Surprise?’ He snorted, yeah that’ll go down well. He was busy in his thoughts when it happened. His hand slipped straight back through the air and onto his side. Roger looked beside him in alarm, ghost Freddie was completely gone. He tried to subdue the awfully sad feeling that rose within his chest. It felt like someone had set fire to his lungs but it had only just started to smolder.

He withdrew his hand and held it against his chest, frowning. He could still feel the tingling sensation left on his hands from the contact. Was Freddie even real? Was he coming back? He must, Roger didn’t think he could bear it if he didn’t, illusion or no. He didn’t know how to tell what was real anymore. He sighed, looking darkly at the horizon. How the hell did anyone expect him to just… function when he didn’t know what was real? What to trust? He could drink coffee and eat breakfast and work on the record like a good little boy or he could set fire to the bloody place, what difference did it make in the end if none of this was real? This was an opportunity to relive some of the best, most dearest times of his life. But if he let himself believe, if he got attached and then woke up he… well, he’d say it’d break him but he seemed pretty broken already.

He bit his lip, thinking. How did people tell if they were crazy? People relied so much on their own mind and eyes and senses, if you couldn’t trust them then what do you do? Isn’t everything suddenly rendered null? He could go to a therapist, sitting in a chair talking about his stupid feelings and how he they could tell him that he was hallucinating, but if he was hallucinating then how did he even know if the doctor was real? He sighed, pained. He needed… he needed help. His head hurt, it probably wasn’t supposed to do that. He was driving himself crazy(er) thinking about these things over and over again. Roger sighed heavily. He missed the days life made sense.

He should really probably tell his friends, they cared about him and they’d help him, no doubt. It’d give him the support he so desperately needed, right now it was like he was drowning in a large, lifeless sea. But… the idea was so daunting. What did he even say? They’d think he was crazy. But maybe that was a good thing, the confirmation he needed from am external source that he was off his rocker. Or perhaps he should just gloss over facts, such as the time travel, and just say he was having issues with mental health.

No, that wouldn’t work. It’d only raise more questions and make them even more worried. Still, it’d be so easy to turn to them. The next time someone asked if he was alright he could just be truthful and say ‘No, I’m dying inside and I don’t even know why anymore, let alone how to stop it'. And then it wouldn’t be his burden anymore. The weight would be lifted. He could finally just… breath. He shook his head, he knew very well he’d never do that. So, what then?

“Hey, Bri?” He called out. Brian, who was a few paces in front of him turned.  
“Hm?”  
“Does this town of yours have a library?”  
Brian cocked his head in thought “I suppose so, I don’t see why it shouldn’t. We can go check while we’re there for you.”  
“Thanks.” He said, smiling gratefully. Good. Maybe he can find a book that’ll help him find out something, anything!

 

In front of him, Freddie looked thoughtful too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, in one of the previous chapters my chest started hurting really bad for no apparent reason while I was writing and it was so distracting I just wrote Roger having that pain too. Did you like this chapter? Tell me what you think in the comments! You can go check my out on Instagram at: bohemianrhapsodyroleplay , feel free to DM me even if you just want to talk. Until next time, bye my darlings!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional! I am now and will always be bullshitting my way through this so please don't treat what I say as fact! Not with the grades I get in biology :/

The village did, in fact, have a library. Although the settlement was very small, there appeared to be every little feature you could think of, even a pool.  
“Well, there’s your library, Rog.” Deacy said, nodding at a tall sandstone building, which looked very out of place next to the little country houses. Roger felt a small sense of relief inside him, this place would surely have something of use to him.  
“Yeah, thanks. Hey, is it okay if I go in now?” He asked, eager to finally get even the slightest bit of clarity to his predicament.

Brian nodded “Yeah, I need to go post some letters, actually. Is it alright if I go do that and come back?”  
“So do I,” Deacy added “I'll tag along if that’s alright.”  
Roger nodded “Yeah, you two go ahead. I’ll stay here so you know where to find me.”  
Deacy turned to Freddie “What about you, Fred? Any letters you need posting?”  
Freddie looked startled, like he’d been in some deep thoughts and was surprised at being interrupted “What? Oh, um… No, I just…” he gestured at the library “There’s something I’d like to look up.”

Roger frowned, Freddie had been acting uncharacteristically jumpy and distant lately. He wondered what could be the matter. He also, selfishly, was pleased that all his friends had their own thing to do so they wouldn’t have time to bother him. He winced at the thought, his friends never bothered him. It was just… well, he really didn’t want them seeing what he was looking up or, heaven forbid, asking why.  
“Alright, you two. We’ll be back in, oh I don’t know, half an hour tops? Passing earlier, I think I saw the post office just around the corner.” Brian said. With a few waves, Brian and Deacy disappeared around the corner.

Roger and Freddie were left alone. Roger stared, his wide eyed horror returned from the morning. He’d sort of gotten used to Freddie being… well, alive. But being here with just Freddie alone had him on the edge of panic. He tried to tame the burning inside his chest but he couldn’t help himself from being scared. However, to his puzzlement Freddie looked just as terrified as him. They both stood staring at each other for a moment, as if each were stuck in their own universe, wanting to communicate but not knowing how.

Freddie cleared his throat after a moment, opening the door and standing aside “After you, my dear.”  
Roger nodded “Thanks.” He said before walking through. He bit down on his lip, to contain his emotions, so hard he drew blood. Freddie was his best friend, for fucks sake! He was supposed to enjoy his company, now more than ever, really. Why was it that when he looked at Freddie all he could think of was hospital waiting rooms and black suits and… He stopped where he was standing, eyes screwed shut in pain. When he’d managed to school his breathing and it was safe go open his eyes again, Freddie had already gone wherever it was he’d been going. Roger let out a heavy breath, riding out the exhalation therapeutically. Composing himself, he walked on.

He scanned the isle headings. Fiction? Nope. Children? He should bloody well think not. Medical? Hm… well, that was as good a start as any. Making a beeline to that isle, Roger’s heart picked up pace in anxiety. What did he do if he couldn’t find anything? Worse still, what did he do if he did? Did he really want to know what was wrong with him? He rather liked living under the delusion that he was a normal, sane person.

He braced himself and started to search. He found a book on coma patients when he was skimming the shelves. Hesitantly, he picked it up and sat down on the artsy chair that was tucked away between two shelves, starting to read. ‘Coma patients have a variety of different experiences. They can be a testament to how long they have been in the coma or what has induced it but it is largely unpredictable and varies a great deal. For example, some patients say they were completely aware of the goings on in the room around them. Other patients say they were unaware of any thoughts that had until regaining consciousness.

‘It is also not uncommon for patients to have vivid dreams. These can sometimes be unclear and confusing while others can be largely immersive. Some patients claim to have believed their dreams to be real life. In these cases, therapy and further medical and psychiatric attention is recommended as it can be largely disorientated and even cause physical tolls. Comas occur when...’ Roger stopped reading, not needing to know more.

He closed the book, breathing heavily. Was that what was happening to him? Was he in a coma? Was he on a white bed in a sterile white room reeking of disinfectant? He looked down at his wrists. Did he have needles and tubes coming out of them? Did his monitored heart beat echo in the eerily silent room? How long had he been there? He swallowed thickly, a lump in his throat. Was he dying? 

He frowned. Well, wasn’t that what he wanted? He’d tried to kill himself after all. He wanted to be dead, not dying. Dying was so terrifying. Why couldn’t he just be dead? He frowned again, what’d happen if he killed himself in this… well, whatever it was? Surely, it’d solve all his problems. If he didn’t di this wasn’t real. If he did die then he didn’t have to worry about anything anymore. He pushed those thoughts down and moved on.

Walking a few paces took him into the mental health sub category. He took a deep breath to steel himself. Bloody hell, there was no way this was going to end well. He trailed his fingers over the spines of the books, feeling lost. He had a medical history, sure, but he wasn’t a specialist in psychology. All the books had such long names of medical terminology. He sighed, if he knew what these things were he wouldn’t bloody have to look them up in a library! He scanned for titles he was able to understand and that might be relevant.

Finally, he found something. Hallucinations, the book was ominously called. Well, it was definitely to the point. Roger, anxiety feeling like a leaden weight, pulled it off the shelf to read. ‘Many medical conditions can cause hallucinations, both physical and mental. To properly judge what condition a person has, it is vital to consult a trained professional–' Roger huffed impatiently and flicked a few more pages.

‘Depression, especially severe cases, can cause hallucinations. The chemical imbalance in the brain is the most common cause of this. It can often be caused due to extreme loneliness due to isolation, which is often found with those suffering from depression. To treat–' Alright, he added depression to the list. He tried not to knock anything off before he properly thought about it. Next.

He turned the page. ‘Extreme stress–' Hah! That definitely sounded plausible. ‘…is a common cause of hallucinations. This is the most common cause amongst people who are otherwise mentally healthy. In times of extreme stress, the brain is unable to function optimally. Byproducts of this include hallucinations, dryness of skin, fatigue–' he nodded, could be, could be.

He skimmed more ‘Cases of hallucinations caused by stress are often very mild, most commonly including lights, small sounds, unclear and dream like interactions with people the patient commonly associates with.’ Roger sighed. Mild? This… this definitely wasn’t mild. Either he was so stuck in his own hallucination that he thought he was in the past and couldn’t emerge, or he’d imagined himself an entire future that’d never happened. Either way, not mild.

Next page! ‘Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is a mental disorder well known to be linked to hallucinations. These can vary in severity but most patients have said they experienced it to some degree. These hallucinations will vary but can be seen to mostly fall under to types: hallucinations based on and including elements of the traumatic experience or hallucinations of a serene calm state, often of the trauma being fixed or not existing. The former is linked to memories whereas the latter is a way for the mind to deal with the pain, both can be treated by helping the patient to confront their traumatic experience.’

Roger frowned, that did seem fitting, given that Freddie’s death was the traumatic experience. ‘Hallucinations can be largely immersive. In most cases the patient will not lose track of their surroundings but will be distracted from it. However, it is not unknown for patients to be completely unresponsive in severe cases. These will only last for a short period of time though. These hallucinations are described by patients as being disorientated, unclear, fuzzy and nightmarish. Recommended treatments include–‘ Roger sighed. That don’t sound like it either. This didn’t seem short and it was incredibly clear. He looked around him. Yes, every single little detail was vivid like he was really here.

He sighed, starting to lose hope. But shouldn’t it be a good thing that he couldn’t find anything? Didn’t it mean that he was okay? No, it just meant that he was so fucked up in the head that even psychology books didn’t say how to fix him. He turned the page and his blood ran cold. He swallowed thickly and continued to read, though his hands shook violently in full fledged fear. He couldn’t rule anything out, oh but he wanted to rule this out desperately. He shouldn’t panic, everything else had been not quite right so why should this be? Trying not to panic, he read on. ‘Schizophrenia.

‘Schizophrenia is the most commonly associated mental disorder with hallucinations. Like other conditions, these hallucinations will vary in severity. However, they can are very severe, sometimes being completely undistinguishable by the patient from reality. Patients may see people who are not there, people they know or completely fictional. They may hear sounds or even think that they are in a place that they are not. These hallucinations may communicate with the patient, sometimes telling them to do things that they wouldn’t normally do. They can be peaceful and unthreatening or dangerous and highly distressing to the patient. If you or someone you know might be experiencing this, it is important to get checked by a professional immediately.

Roger was having a panic attack, he knew he was. That knowledge didn’t help him in the least. He dropped the book as if burnt, curling away from it. He couldn’t have schizophrenia, he didn’t have schizophrenia! He slumped over his legs, unable to support himself. He couldn’t breath, his lungs burnt. He could barely see and his limbs felt completely numb. He let out a soft sob, he felt as if he was dying. Images flashed through his head of horror stories on the news, people in white coats screaming at nothing, attacking the people they cared about without even knowing, locked away for the safety of society never to be seen again. He sober again into his hand, face hot and wet with tears.

He didn’t have it, he couldn’t have it. He was in a coma, that was all. That’s why he don’t know where he was, that’s why he couldn’t for the life of him escape this reality. He was in a coma. He was in a coma, just a coma. He’d be alright or dead soon, either way he was okay. It was only these thoughts that managed to calm him down. He could breath now. He felt exhausted, like he’d been awake for a week straight. Groaning, he stood. He felt sick to the stomach, feverish even. He stood, leaving. He’d seen enough.

He turned the corner and yelped when he ran face first into someone, knocking their books right onto the floor.  
“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry I…” he looked up and realised it was Freddie. “Oh… sorry, mate.” Here, let me get your–”  
“No! …I-I mean, no need. I’ll get them.” He amended, scrambling to pick them up. He scooped them away but not before Roger could read the titles. ‘Depression, suicide and other mental health concerns', ‘Inside the dream', ‘How to help a loved one'? How very curious.

“Whatever have you got that lot for, Freddie? Is everything alright?”  
Freddie looked at him with wide eyes but nodded “Yes, yes. I, erm… Well, I was looking for the music section, I wanted to… To find a thing or two out about opera. Then… this girl, she thought I was staring at her. I thought I’d better not give her the wrong idea so I grabbed the first books I could find. I’ll just go put them back, shall I?” he said, turning the corner and disappearing. Roger stared after him, bewildered, his own worries momentarily forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay angst! Hiiii I'm back with this new chapter. What dya think? Tell me in the comments! If you wanna come chat you can find me over at 'bohemianrhapsodyroleplay' on Instagram


	8. Chapter 8

Brian raised an eyebrow “You two alright?”  
Roger started, his fingers wringing together; he was still incredibly anxious and on edge. “W-What? Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright. Why wouldn’t I be alright?”  
Freddie, for his part, stayed silent and nodded jerkily. Brian and Deacy exchanged a look and sighed.  
“Alright, what’s gotten into you two? You’re acting so strange!” John exclaimed.  
Brian nodded “Yeah, Rog, you look absolutely terrified, Freddie you never shut up for two consecutive seconds usually. Won’t you two please tell us what’s wrong? It’s starting to scare me.”

Roger stared for a moment then his eyes flicked over to Freddie, their eyes met and locked, quite by accident. Roger froze but was unable to tear his eyes away from him. He didn’t ever want go take his eyes off him, it was like clutching at sand or water; perhaps if he held on tight enough Freddie would never fade away. Freddie didn’t appear to want to look away either. In his eyes there was the most confusing look, like a combination of sadness, worry and love; it was very intense and quite beautiful. Neither man said a thing.

Brian sighed “If you guys need to talk... Can you just go ahead and do it, please? We can’t afford having any issues, not when we’re stuck together for weeks straight. Besides, I don’t know what this is but it’s clearly hurting you both. Please, for goodness sake talk!”  
Roger nodded, though he didn’t know what he could say. Still, after screaming, running and crying his face off on Freddie’s shoulder the man probably deserved some kind of explanation. Even if it was... Highly paraphrased, to put it eloquently. Freddie nodded too, his gaze breaking away from Roger’s to look at Brian. Roger felt as if something snapped inside him and was leaking something cold. He had the sudden intense urge to grab a hold of Freddie and not let go.

Deacy broke the... Not ‘awkward silence' more like ‘strange silence' that had befallen them. “Alright, well I think we’d better grab lunch. I’m sure we’ll all feel better and more clear headed after a sandwich and tea.”  
Brian nodded “Cheers to that. There was a tearoom next to the barbers we passed, right Deacy?”  
Deacy nodded “Yeah, seemed nice enough.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Roger’s too ‘rockstar' for ham sandwiches, isn’t he?” Freddie teased, shooting a playful look his way.  
Roger scowled, though there was no real malice behind it, “Yeah, you’re one to talk you angry lizard. Regrow your tail lately?”  
“Oh, I’m sure you’d love to know the secrets of regrowing your ‘tail’, you must get a lot of wear and tear with how much you use it.” Roger opened his mouth to retaliate hotly.

“Alright, alright, children.” Brian soothed “Bloody hell, I think I liked you two better all quiet and depressed.”  
“I’m sorry mummy, I’m sorry daddy.” Freddie snarked, turning to Deacy for the last part.  
Deacy raised his arms in surrender “I never said anything, don’t bring me into this!”

Roger chortled happily, it felt in this moment like it really was all those years ago. Back when everything was right and everyone was happy, back when they were together. Oh, he’d missed it dearly.  
Deacy nudged him, giving him a soft smile “Hey, there’s that smile we all know and love.”  
Roger’s cheeks heated when he felt all his friend’s eyes land on him. Brian ruffled his hair, to which he cried out indignantly, trying to squirm out of his reach.

Brian chuckled “You look like an angry lion, now.” He said, gesturing to his mane of mussed hair.  
Deacy grinned “You can add it to the collection of angry animals we’re apparently making.”  
Brian pursed his lips contemplatively “I'd rather be an angry lion than an angry lizard.”  
Deacy hummed in thought “Oh, I don’t know. Lizards have their advantages too.”

Freddie huffed indignantly “Hey, only Roger and I are allowed to childishly bully each other. You two are supposed to be the boring mature ones!”  
“Quiet, sweetie, mummy and daddy are talking.” Deacy shut him down. Freddie’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he huffed dramatically and stormed off.  
“Wrong way, Fred!” Brian called after him, as they all ran to catch up.  
*******  
The tea shop was a cosy, pleasant place. Roger felt a bit awkward, you could just tell that it was the kind old lady behind the counter that’d made the lot. What were you supposed to do if you didn’t like something? She’d be right there watching you throw it in the bin. His eyes scanned over the menu. There wasn’t the largest range but it probably beat whatever was in the freezer back at the farm. He hummed in thought and settled for a bacon bap and cream tea, the scones did smell nice. He went to sit by the window while he waited for his friends to order. It was cold outside, too cold to sit in the pretty looking garden, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t enjoy he view through the safety of the window.

Freddie was the first to sit down, both to Roger’s delight and terror. A look passed between them, one he was familiar with from one night stands. The look that meant that there was something serious they needed to talk about but now was not the time. He was relieved for it, he didn’t think he could stand the conversation right now, at least not without something far stronger than tea. Still, the impending conversation had him feeling a bit nauseous with anxiety. When had his anxiety gotten so bad? It hardly shut up for more than a second nowadays. Perhaps he should have looked at some books to help with that while he was in the mental health section. He winced, he didn’t want to think about that.

“A beautiful place, don’t you think?” Freddie said, gesturing to their surroundings.  
Roger nodded, looking around. It was nice to just... Sit back and enjoy the little things, he didn’t know how long it’d been since he’d been able to do that. Years, probably. That didn’t sound healthy at all.  
Freddie nodded “Yes, cream tea in the countryside, next to rose bushes. Do you not feel like a real queen from all this?”  
Roger chuckled “Yeah, if you ignore the mud caked boots.”

Freddie laughed “Oh, yes indeed. Perhaps we should hire Butler’s to carry us through the countryside when we are rich and famous? Or, better still, elephants! With big golden booths on their backs.”  
Roger smiled, eyes surveying Freddie with fond wonder, wanting to absorb every little detail into the essence of his being. “You have such a beautiful mind, Freddie.”  
Freddie looked at him, cocking his head at the curious comment “Well, thank you, my dear.”

Brian came and sat down “The food’s ready. Pretty damn quick, if you ask me, especially for a single old lady. Still, I suppose she doesn’t have all too many customers to cater to. Deacy's helping her carry it over.”  
“And you just left him to do it alone?” Roger teased.  
Brian scoffed “Says you, you two are just sitting over here having a date or something. Besides, I thought it best to leave Deacy and his new lady friend to their privacy.” He said with a wink.  
Roger snorted “ ‘New lady friend’? Prehistoric lady friend, more like.”

Freddie chortled gleefully “Oh, Brian, I do forget what fun you are sometimes, you do an awfully good job at hiding it behind boring academia.”  
Brian frowned in mild confusion “Thank, I think. I feel like I was just insulted too, though.”  
It was then that the old lady and Deacy arrived with the tray of food. The three men looked at the two, made eye contact with each other then burst into laughter, Freddie spraying a mouthful of water he’d just taken.  
“U-Urgh, gross!” Roger managed to get out through painfully strong laughs.  
Deacy looked at them like they’d gone insane “What? What’s so funny?”  
*******  
Roger smiled lazily. His cheeks hurt from laughing so hard and he was sure that if he ate another morsel he’d either throw up or explode, he wasn’t sure which would be more unattractive. Still, he felt happier than he had in such a long time. He closed his eyes, smiling as he simply relished in the warmth and contentment he felt inside. His friends–family–were amazing. Only they’d be able to bring him from trembling wreck to completely content in a matter of hours.

“The sun’s starting to set, we should head off before we get caught in unfamiliar old fields in the dark.” Brian pointed out.  
Freddie pouted “But we haven’t had a chance to look in any shops or buy anything! You said we could.”  
“I know, I know but as many talents as I have, controlling the length of days isn’t one of them.”  
“Bloody useless! If you can’t do that then what exactly is the point of you?” Freddie teased.  
“I day we come back again next week. They can’t expect us to spend aaall our time cooped up in there.” Deacy argued.

“It’s pretty isn’t it.” Roger blurted out, still staring out the window. His friends looked at him in curious surprise.  
“Pardon?” asked Brian.  
“Hm? Oh. The sunset. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”  
“Yeah, I suppose it is.” Brian agreed, nodding as he looked out the window again, more assessingly.  
“Nice, too, to experience another day come and go, being able to say we took a part in it.”  
Brian looked a little out of his depth “Um... Yeah?”

Roger sighed and turned to look at them all “I love you guys. You know that? I love you so, so much! With all my heart!”  
“We love you too, Roger.” Deacy said, placing a cautiously gentle hand on his shoulder, a concerned frown creasing his forehead. Freddie and Brian nodded to that, too, but looked equally worried.  
Brian placed a hand on Roger's forehead “I think he’s burning up. Is he? Oh, heck, I can’t tell when my own hands are so cold.”  
“It's late but the doctors should still be open.” Freddie added, worriedly.

Roger shook his head “I'm find, guys, I’m fine! What, I can’t be happy and affectionate without something being wrong with me?”  
Brian looked him over and sighed “Okay, I’ll take your word. But if you collapse I will spank you.”  
Roger huffed, crossing his arms indignantly “I'm a grown man, you can’t do that. And on what grounds?”  
“On scaring the living daylights out of me! At least ten times today!”  
Freddie chuckled “Oh, do please continue, you two. Let me watch your gay sex tape when it comes out, though!”

“Alright, I think it’s about time we went home... Erm, went to the farm.” Deacy intervened, which led to Freddie singing ‘home is where the heart is' in a dramatic, operatic way while they weaved through the country streets, on the way back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tada, a new chapter! I thought it was about time to chuck a handful of domestic fluff in there to break up the never ending angst. What'd you think? Should I do more fluff chapters in the future? Dya like this? What are your theories for the future? Tell me what you think in the comments! Thanks for reading. Until next time, bye <3


	9. Chapter 9

Roger put his toothbrush down and stepped aside to let Brian go into the bathroom. They were in such close proximity here, if they weren’t already used to living with each other they’d probably drive themselves crazy. Actually, this was really nice. All four of them together, just living causally shoulder to shoulder, almost symbiotic. They were so intimately laced with each others lives. Well, they always were and nothing would ever change that. But it was nice for them to actually physically be together again, not being at each other’s throats was a bonus to.

Roger walked to his bedroom, pausing at the door next to it. Freddie’s door. He sighed and, hesitantly, knocked on the door.  
“Come in.” Called Freddie’s voice.  
Roger let out a small breath, every time he heard Freddie it just gave him a rush of happiness and relief. He pushed open the door, walking in.

“Hey.” He said with a smile, standing a few paces in.  
Freddie looked up at him and smiled “Hey. Are you alright? Come in, come in. No need to stand there.” He said, gesturing to the seat next to the bed.  
“Yeah, I’m alright.” Roger assured, coming in to sit. He looked up at Freddie, biting his lip “Hey, Freddie... Can we talk?”  
Freddie looked up from what he was doing, attention completely on Roger now. He nodded, coming to sit on the bed.  
“Yes, of course. What is it, darling?”

Roger worried his lip between his teeth. What to say to Freddie? He really didn’t know. He had to say something! There was very obviously something wrong between him and Freddie right now, even Brian and Deacy picked up on it. He didn’t want to risk their beloved friendship just because he was a dysfunctional, anxious wreck. And yet, what could he say? He had to cut out all the bits that made him look like a fucking asylum escapee, but without that then there was nothing left to say. He measured his words carefully before speaking.

“I... Had a dream last night,” he started. Weak and overused, perhaps, up there with ‘a friend of mine did this thing, not me, and I need to give then advice’, but still, it was the best he could come up with. Surprisingly, those words seemed to engage Freddie even more.  
“Yeah, um, and in the dream... Well, something bad happened. To you. And to me. And to the world and... Well, basically... I don’t...” he slumped over in his chair, burying his face in his hands and whacking his head against his palms. The was worse than saying nothing at all! Images and memories flashed through his mind. The good were made hollow and bitter by what was to come, the bad very nearly killed him. He knew he couldn’t breath a single word of it, even if he wasn’t afraid of being crazy, he was sure a single syllable would burn through his tongue.

He started to stand.  
“This is stupid, I’m stupid. I’m sorry, Fred, I’ll just leave...” he said, moving towards the door.  
Freddie put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.  
“Wait! Roger... Stay, won’t you? Sit down, it’s alright.” He soothed. Roger looked at him with wide eyes before giving him a jerky nod and sitting down again. He took a deep breath and let it out through his mouth.  
“That’s it, my dear, just breath. Nice deep breaths, alright? That’s all you need to do, Roger, no one asks any more of you, okay? So you don’t need to stress or worry, just breath.” Freddie said calmly, his hand not leaving Roger’s shoulder. Instead, he rubbed soft, soothing circles there which helped a million miles to stop Roger from driving himself through the roof.

Roger let out a jagged breath and slumped side wards. Freddie sighed softly and pulled him closer, so Roger’s weight was supported by his side. Roger whimpered softly, burying his face against Freddie’s neck, he’d probably regret this tomorrow and be embarrassed as hell but right now he was tired and sad, he didn’t give a damn anymore.  
“I’m tired, Freddie, and I’m scared and I’m sore, it hurts everywhere and I don’t know why. I’m so confused and terrified, I don’t even know why anymore let alone how to make it stop. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what’s real, I don’t know what’s right. I don’t know how I’m supposed to survive, it’s only been a day and I feel like I’m dying. I can’t carry on, not like this, I can pretend like everything’s alright but it’s not! It’s never been less alright! I can’t do it, I can’t do it. I hate myself but I just can’t do it!”

He was sobbing openly now “I... This is my chance, I got given the chance I dreamt for and I’m too weak to do it. I just can’t. I... I want to go home, I want life to stop, I want... I... I feel sick.” He’d faded to a pained whisper by the end, his eyes screwed shut, his head burried in the crook of Freddie’s neck like he could lose himself there. Freddie smelt like incense, rich fabric and tobacco, it was nice. Soothing.

Freddie ran his hand through Roger’s hair “Hush now, my dear, it’s alright. I know it may not seem like it but it’ll be alright, yeah? You’re not alone, you have me, Brian and Deacy. The four of us, we can do anything. Even if you can’t tell us or explain, that doesn’t mean you’re isolated from us. We love you to bits and would do anything to make sure you’re alright. I know it’s confusing but I’ll help you through his. We’ll figure out what ‘this' is, too. Now, I know this’ll be hard but you have to trust me on this: just let it go for now. The stress, the worry, the planning on how to make it all better; you’re hurting your pretty little head over it all. Just let yourself be free, have a rest, you’ll make yourself very ill at this rate. It’s never as bad as it seems, my love.”

That sounded... Nice. Roger wanted to believe it, it’d be so very peaceful to believe that it’d all be okay, that happily ever after existed. He knew for a fact that that wasn’t true! Life was meaningless and unfair, nothing would ever end well. ‘Happily ever after', happiness at all for that matter, didn’t exist. The only certainty in life was death. But... Was that life, the one that’d taught him those lessons, even real? If it wasn't, then... No. He just had to let it go. Like Freddie said, the only thing these thoughts would achieve was making him unwell. Just let it go. He pulled up slightly from Freddie’s shoulder, looking up at him with wide eyes bright with tears. Freddie sighed sympathetically and brushed a hair out of his face, which was stuck to his tear damp cheek, kissing his forehead softly.  
“My poor dear,” he murmured softly “I don’t know what’s wrong but I know you definitely don’t deserve to suffer like this.”

They sat like that for a moment, Roger slowly calming down. He felt absolutely exhausted, he didn’t know which classed as anxiety attacks, panic attacks and just full blown breakdowns but he knew that if each was an alcohol today he’d had enough cocktails to give him alcohol poisoning. He was so used to the serene silence that he jumped when Freddie spoke.  
“Roger would you.. Oh, sorry, darling, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He chuckled “Anyway... Well, I’m guessing whatever dream you had wasn’t of the good sort. You could always spend the night here with me if you want. I hear company is supposed to help with nightmares, and I can always wake you if I see you’re too upset. You don’t have to, of course, it’s just an idea. But if you want to definitely feel free to stay.”

Roger considered the offer. He’d regularly have far too much pride and testosterone to say yes to that but... Freddie was so warm and snuggly and safe, and he was so tired and achy and cold... He just wanted to disappear into the soft warmth...  
Freddie chuckled “I take that as a yes. Come on, let’s move you to the bed. I know, I know,” he said when Roger started to whine “But you have to move, just a little and you can sleep. It’s far more comfortable and warm in the bed than on this chair. Oh, you poor darling you look exhausted. Here.” He said, assisting Roger to stand and move over to the bed. Roger gratefully collapsed into the encompassing softness of Freddie’s bed. Whether Freddie had been given a far better room or he was just so tired any bed felt like bliss he didn’t know but he didn’t think he’d felt anything nicer in his life.

Drowsily, he was aware of Freddie pulling the duvet over him and climbing in beside him. He hummed happily as Freddie softly pulled him to his side, in a half embrace. His sleepy arms loosely held Freddie back.  
“G’night, Fred.”  
Freddie smiled softly “Sweet dreams, my angel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There ya go! New chapter! This chapter made me want to listen to 'I Need Some Sleep' XD. I've been watching 'War At Home' and omg Rami Malek playing Kenny is the cutest thing <3 Dya like this chapter? Tell me what you think in the comments!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, quick warning: this got WAAYYY more intense than I intended. So, if you're easily triggered by matters such as death and mental illness then... Well, why are you still reading my story? But this chapter especially is not for you.

Freddie looked around blearily. He felt disconnected from his surroundings, like he wasn’t really there at all. Moments melted into one another, scenes flitted past in a confused blur until, finally, he was stationary in his surroundings.  
“No! Not here! Please, anywhere but here, anything but this again, I beg you!” Freddie gasped in horror, his hand flitting up to his mouth. He frowned, feeling the rough scruff of hair there. A moustache? He looked down and recoiled, startled to see straight through his hand. Had this been the same last time? His hair... It was short, too, no longer falling messily down to his shoulders. Had he simply not taken note of these details the first time? Well, he wasn’t surprised, he’d had a lot on his mind.

There. The sobbing again; Roger’s sobbing. So sorrowful, so heart wrenching. Those desperate cries spoke of horrors and hardships Freddie couldn’t begin to comprehend, it spoke of some bitter truth so awful that Roger was willing to take his own life to escape it. Why? Why would he do it? He had friends who loved him, a blooming career in his dream job, fans that adored him; what was it that could make his dear friend so completely forlorn that he’d commit suicide? What had happened that Freddie was missing? Freddie let out a cry of frustration, he was sick of staring at the back of a closed door! Not the slightest bit of power to open it. Oh, he could hear the crying, he could see the blood, he knew something was very very wrong but he didn’t have the slightest power to save his friend.

Maybe that’s what this was. He’d noticed something was wrong with Roger so his mind kept feeding him these images and metaphors in his sleep, reminding him of what might happen if he wasn’t careful? Well, all Freddie needed to know was that he would not let this happen to Roger. As far as he was concerned, as long as Roger was living and breathing by his side then this horrible prophecy was nothing more than a stupid little nightmare. He wouldn’t let this be true. In fact, he knew this wasn’t true, it couldn’t be! That was a fact, because as long as there was breath in his lungs he’d never let this happen to Roger. So it simply couldn’t be true. This was merely a nightmare, he was asleep. In the real world, Roger was asleep in his arms. If he concentrated, he’d be able to feel the soft pounding of his heart or the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed shallow, sleeping breaths.

Freddie held onto that knowledge as the scene changed to Roger crying and bleeding in his study. He was crying and breathing heavily but holding on to what he knew was true, what he knew was right.  
“I won’t let this happen, Roger!” he declared, though he knew the ghostly figure couldn’t hear him “Never will there be a day where you have to feel like this, not on my watch, or where you’ll be alone. I’ll make sure there’s always a pair of caring eyes watching over you if you’re drinking, always careful hands to heal you when you’re bleeding, always a friend to talk to to stop you from being alone in your study at night. This isn’t real! This will never be real, I won’t let it!”

Tears ran hotly down his cheeks and he let out a tearful gasp when, like clockwork, Roger stood again, ambling bloodily to the door.  
He spoke desperately, shouting now though he knew it made no difference “I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry. That you’re alone, that you’re hurt, that I can’t save you. Please, know that... I hope it’ll give you solace knowing that I will never let this happen, not a single second of it. If nothing else, then just know that.” The door closed again. Bloody handprints again. The only thing worse than the sound of the sobbing was the deafening silence.

The scene changed again, to the bridge. Like last time, Freddie was too far away. He ran but again his legs moved as if they obeyed someone else, he arrived the moment Roger’s body tilted dangerously over the edge. Of course Freddie knew he couldn’t stop him, but of course he tried anyway, and of course his hand passed straight through again. It didn’t feel any less horrifying the second time around. This time, he noticed another new detail. Roger’s face... He looked, well, not happy, more like serene, peaceful even. Contented. It should have been a nice relief to see him feeling something but that horrific sadness, or maybe even give him solace knowing his friend died feeling content rather than upset. But... Well, the sight broke Freddie’s heart.

He wanted to look away, he hated himself for it but it was true. Still, he couldn’t do it. This may be a dream, he may have seen it all before but... Looking away felt like abandoning Roger in his final moments. If he didn’t look then Roger was completely alone. It had to be Freddie, there was no one else to do it. And so he kept his eyes open as Roger disappeared into the remorseless river bellow, though it made him sick to the stomach, and he kept watching as the water turned red, though he couldn’t stop himself from throwing up. Freddie screamed and screamed Roger’s name to the uncaring ears of the river, for long after Roger had disappeared. He wouldn’t stop, he’d never give up!  
.  
.  
.  
Freddie woke with Roger’s name on his tongue, heart pounding in a panic, breaths shallow and erratic. He blinked around, looking at the room to help him once again connect with his surroundings. The glowing morning light couldn’t be contained by the curtains, it shone optimistically into the room, illuminating a trail across the ceiling. He was right, this was real, that was a dream. Roger... Yes, Roger was indeed in his arms, safe and sound.

Freddie sighed and pulled the other man closer. It was probably weird, he held Roger so tenderly, like he was his child or lover, but he couldn’t help it. Roger was okay, Roger was right there. He could, like he’d predicted, feel the rise and fall of his chest, he even felt the soft tickle of his breaths against his skin. He was alive. A dark, doom feeling settled in his stomach; alive isn’t good enough, a voice deep inside him reminded. Roger wasn’t okay, though he wasn’t bleeding out alone in some expensive study either. He’d admitted it himself, he was confused, upset, in pain. No, Freddie couldn’t afford to settle for the relief of knowing Roger was alive. He mustn’t stop there if he wanted to prevent his nightmare from becoming reality.

In his arms, Roger twitched. Freddie frowned, attention diverted to the man. He murmured softly which turned into a whine. He then thrashed hard, letting out a strangled gasp. Freddie recoiled, alarmed.  
“Roger?” he called, cautiously, gently placing a hand on him.  
Roger mumbled again, frowning. He whined, curling in on himself. Freddie looked at him with wide eyes, shaking him gently.  
“Roger, are you alright? Can you hear me?”  
Roger thrashed again, shifting from one side to the other, then back. He let out a whimper that sounded far more tearful this time, his face contorting in pain.  
“Shit.” Freddie cursed, shaking him more forcefully “Roger! Wake up. Please, wake up.”  
*******  
“...And then the little bird returned to it’s nest. That was enough flying for today! Mother bird, father bird and baby bird all huddled together and went to bed. The end.” Roger smiled lovingly, putting the book on the bedside table and leaning down to kiss Rory’s little head. The story was bloody awful, they all were, but Rory seemed to like it and that was all that mattered.  
“Goodnight, my love.”  
“Goodnight, daddy.”

He’d just reached out to turn the doorknob when a small voice stopped him.  
“Daddy?”  
“Yes, my sweetheart?” He stopped by the door, turning to look at her. He frowned, she looked sad.  
“Why did you do it?” she asked tearfully, big baby puppy dog eyes wet with tears.  
Roger frowned, confused “Do what, princess?”  
“Leave me alone.” She sniffles “Don't you care about me? Don’t you love me? You said you did, daddy, you said so!”

Roger shook his head frowning “I do love you, of course I love you! Why would you think otherwise?”  
“Why did you kill me?” Roger’s eyed widened and he staggered backwards in horror as his little girl’s body became wet, her hair floating like she was under water. Her skin became pale, red dying her golden hair crimson.  
“I didn’t! I would never! I killed myself, not you. I’d never kill you, I’d never hurt you.”  
“But you did, daddy, you hurt me.”

“And why would you care anyway?” a new voice. Dominique appeared in the room, walking and sitting on the bedside, kissing Rory’s head and smiling tenderly at the girl. She turned to Roger and her expression turned cold.  
“Why would you care if you killed her? You chose to leave us all, you chose to not give a damn about us. Why would you care if I stabbed her.” She was holding a knife. Roger gasped and let out a pained cry. He wanted to protest but he couldn’t say a word, his mouth was choked with water, flooding through his nose and mouth, drowning him.  
“You wouldn’t care if I killed her, or myself.” Dominique said, moving the knife to her throat “You would never know if we died. You’re gone. You abandoned us.”

Roger gurgled desperately on the floor. He wanted to reach out and pull them into his arms but he couldn’t. He was drowning, he was dying, he didn’t have the energy to move. Their forms faded away and he was in the hospital again, of which he’d become so familiar. He was in the mortuary, standing next to two bodies, covered by sheets. At first he thought it was Dominique and Rory but no, they were far too large. With morbid curiosity, Roger pulled back the sheets. He gasped in horror, it was Deacy and Brian. Deacy's wrists had red gashes up them and Brian’s neck had a horrid black and blue ring around it. Roger felt sick.

“What’s wrong?” Brian’s body sat up and looked at him, with glazed over eyes “Disturbed? That we’re dead or that we killed ourselves?”  
“Why would you care?” said Deacy, his skin so pale that there was surely not a single ounce of blood left inside him “You’re an enthusiast. You killed yourself because you lost a friend? Well we lost two! That’s on you.”  
“Did you never think about how it’d hurt us? Did you never think for a second that we might be feeling the same way? You’re so selfish.” Hissed Brian, his voice sounding raw from his injuries.

Roger felt... He couldn’t... It was so horrible! He couldn’t even say anything, his lungs burnt from the water that’d crept its way inside.

Clear

He was alone again, under the river. Completely alone, completely dark. It hurt. It hurt so bad! He couldn’t breath...

...asal passage

His lungs burnt. He had to breath! He had to die. He had to die already, he couldn’t take it anymore. The guilt, the pain, the uncertainty.

Compressions

He could hear sounds and voices amidst the darkness of the river. Scraping, shuffling, shouting, words. He could see silhouettes in the darkness of the water.

Electrocardiography, third front

There was a blinding light. He screwed his eyes shut. Well, he was pretty sure his eyed were already shut but he did it even more forcefully anyway. The light remained. Large, square, swinging. Too bright, too bright.

Three, two twenty

It was too much. The light, the sound, the pain. The beeping wouldn’t stop. The light, glinting off silver. White, bright, light. Buzzing, violent buzzing.

“ROGER!” He gasped awake, eyes and mouth gaping wide. He saw Freddie there and recoiled. What was happening? Freddie was dead. No... He hugged Freddie tightly. Freddie could make it all better, Freddie would know what to do. He’d tell them that the light was far too bright and ask then to stop hurting him.

Fuck. He groaned, he was awake. His dream mindset was starting to fade. Then why was the sound still there?

Wing seven

Insert

Hypotonic

Incision

Seven

He put his hands over his ears and screwed his eyes shut. The sound wouldn’t stop, the light wouldn’t stop. What the fuck was happening? He wasn’t dreaming anymore, he’d just woke up. He was insane. He was schizophrenic. Why did hallucinating sounds scare him any more than literally seeing the ghost of his dead best friend? Because Freddie was nice, Freddie looked after him, even if he was potentially a biproduct of Roger’s potential mental illness. This... This was different. He was so scared, it really truly felt like losing his mind. He couldn’t make sense of it, that was the big difference. With Freddie’s ghost, he felt rational, in control, though he probably wasn’t. With this... It made no sense at all.

As suddenly as it all came, it stopped. Silence burned his ears. Cautiously, Roger uncurled and looked around. The room was completely normal, it looked beautiful in the morning light. Freddie sat watching with terrified eyes. Roger let out a whimper and launched himself back into Freddie’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Um... Opinions? What did you think of that shit storm? Also, I love to hear you guys' theories XD


	11. Chapter 11

Freddie was shaking, Roger could feel it at their close proximity. Guilt rushed through him. Freddie had been nice, comforting, a grounding weight in the middle of his torment and how did he repay him? He scared the shit out of him and continued to worry him, endlessly. He hurried his face deeper against Freddie’s chest in shame, his arms wrapping tighter around the man.  
“ ‘m sorry, Fred.” He murmured, words muffled almost beyond recognition. Freddie pulled him closer, running a hand through his hair. Roger sighed serenely and melted into the touch.  
“You have no reason to be sorry, my dear.” Freddie said softly.

There was silence and stillness for a moment, causing Roger to frown in worry. Then Freddie leant down and kissed his forehead. It was soft and quick but burned like the sun, making Roger hard pressed not to grin like an idiot.  
“Come now, darling. Let’s lie down, we can push away the problems of life for a while longer.” Freddie said, climbing back under the covers, leaving a space beside him for Roger. Roger nodded and followed suit, that definitely sounded like a good idea. He lay awkwardly at the opposite edge of the bed. He wanted to curl back up in Freddie’s arms but now... It was different. He was awake and not freaking out so really there was no excuse for him to do something like that.

Freddie gave him a look and chuckled “Get over here, you closet softie.” He said, arms open wide. Roger grinned and happily obliged, he fit against Freddie perfectly, like they were meant to be together like this. He felt Freddie’s arms envelop him and wrapped his arms around Freddie. Freddie chuckled softly, the vibrations reverberating through Roger where he was pressed up against him.  
“You are adorably cuddly when you’re tired, you know that?”  
Roger blushed crimson and hid his face under the covers. What was he supposed to say to that? Still, he may be embarrassed but that didn’t mean he didn’t like it.

They lay like that for a while, the soft sounds of their breaths mingling with the songs of the birds, enveloped in each other’s heat and hidden by the covers. It felt like heaven. Roger became so relaxed and comfortable that he could very easily drift off. No, he mustn’t! They had work to do, they’d already put it off for a day. But... He was so sleepy. He’d just time travelled and had his reality ripped out of proportion, surely he was allowed to lie in? Brian said he could rest if he wanted to. He pouted sleepily to himself, burying his face in the pillow. Yes, Freddie definitely had the more comfortable bed. He was so close to sleep he could reach out and touch it...

The cockerel outside decided to loudly make itself known. Crowing echoed cacophonically through the entire farm. Roger winced, burying his face deeper in the pillow, this time to drown out the sound not sleep. No, sleep was off the table. Freddie next to him groaned, turning and pulling the duvet up to swaddle him.  
“Oh fucking hell.” He grumbled. He shook his head and looked up to Roger “Excellent planning, this was. How are we supposed to think let alone work with this racket?”

Roger pursed his lips in thought “I don’t know, Freddie, maybe it was a devious plan to make sure we never sleep in.”  
“Damn it, you’re right! Oh, but we’re onto them now.”  
“Hm, but what do we do with this knowledge?”  
“We rebel! We sleep in anyway just to spite them.”  
“Sounds fine to me.” Roger chuckled. Freddie smiled across to him and pulled him closer again, roger nuzzled closer so his head was almost resting on Freddie’s chest.

Freddie sighed and kissed Roger’s head again.  
“I really do love you, you know. Very, very much. You’re one of my best friends and you mean the world to me. Alright?”  
Roger nodded, his body buzzing with a mixture of emotions. Happiness, love, guilt, sadness, longing... To much. Feelings were overrated.

Freddie continued, running his hand through Roger’s hair “And... I... I know it’s not always as easy as just opening up to someone and just going to tell someone because you know that you should. But, you can, you really can tell me anything that’s on your mind. Even if you think it’s silly or stupid, even if you think I won’t believe you, even if you think I’ll think less of you; just tell me, you can always tell me. Please... It’s dangerous to keep yourself shut up and away. If something were to happen to you I...” Freddie’s voice broke.

Roger screwed his eyes shut, it physically pained him to hear Freddie so worried. All over him, too. He let out a shaky breath before talking.  
“F-Freddie?”  
“What is it, my dear?”  
“I think...” he let out another deep breath to steel himself “Um, I’m gonna say something and you’re gonna think that I’m crazy but... Yeah, I don’t have an explanation or any justification.”  
Freddie nodded “Alright. That’s okay.”

“A-And I knew you know there’s something wrong with me, and I can’t tell you everything, not right now. Partly because I don’t even know what’s going on but mostly because I couldn’t take it, I think telling you everything might just kill me. S-So... I’ll say this, because it’s on my mind a-and I don’t know what t-to do about it.”  
Freddie brushed a hand over his cheek “Just tell me, darling. It’ll be alright.” Roger nodded and let out another anxious gush of breath.  
“I-I think I’m dead.”

Freddie blinked in confusion and nodded slowly “Okay...” He said, collecting his thoughts “What makes you think that?”  
“Because I died and then I ended up here and... Nothing makes sense anymore but maybe that might explain it because I died, right? So I should be dead, right? A-And I think I probably am because everything just stopped and I wasn’t resuscitated or saved or brought back so that means I was successful and I am dead. So then it doesn’t matter if nothing makes sense because I’m dead and so nothing has to make sense anymore and–”

“Woah, woah wait. Successful? Dead because you were successful? Roger, what does that mean?” Freddie said in a shaky voice “What the hell do you mean by that?”  
Roger’s blood ran cold. Shit. Did he say that? His eyes were wide with panic, he opened his mouth to say something, come up with some excuse or cover up, but nothing came.  
Freddie shook his head “No, don’t lie to me, you mustn’t lie to me about something this important!” he rubbed a hand over his face, the limb visibly shaking. Roger watched him, tears burning his eyes. He didn’t know what to say.

After a moment, Freddie spoke “I’m not mad at you, alright? You need to understand that, I can’t have you thinking that. I just...” he let out a breath through his teeth and raked his hand through his hair “Roger, it is very important that I ask you something and when I do you absolutely must answer me honestly, okay?”  
Roger nodded shakily in response.  
Freddie nodded to himself and licked his lips, his eyes glistening with concern “Would you do it again?” he breathed, through gritted teeth.

Roger blinked up at him, feeling like the air had been knocked out of him, though he had been anticipating the question.  
“Roger, can you look at me and honestly tell me that you wouldn’t try to kill yourself again?”  
Roger closed his eyes, the action causing a brimming tear to leak out down his cheek. He shook his head jerkily, unable to look to see what Freddie’s reaction was. He heard an exhalation of breath and curses then silence other than the sound of Freddie’s laboured breathing.

“Well,” said Freddie finally “Thank you for being honest, Rog.” He hugged Roger closer like a lifejacket “It means a lot to me.” Another heavy exhalation “Are you desperately suicidal, do I need to keep an eye on you around knives and heights or something?”  
Roger shook his head again  
“Okay.” Freddie said, though his tone told Roger he was definitely keeping a watch anyway. Freddie sighed “Back to you being dead, though we are not forgetting about this. I don’t think it matters. You may have died somehow, I definitely don’t know, but the truth and fact is that you are alive right now.”

He took Roger’s hand in his own and placed them both om Roger’s chest “Feel that? That’s our heart beating, pumping blood around your body so you can live. You’re alive. That’s all that matters, that’s the only thing that matters. You’re alive and it must stay that way, as long as it does then everything is okay, whether it makes sense or not. Alright?” his eyes searched Roger’s, his voice was steady but the look was pleading. “Alright?” he repeated, more desperately this time.  
Roger nodded, trying to find his voice again “Alright.” He managed feebly.  
Freddie let out a breath, bringing Roger’s hand up to his mouth where he kissed it gently.

“You’ll be fine.” He said, though Roger felt like Freddie was assuring himself more than him, “You’ll be just fine. More than fine. Everything will be brilliant.”  
Roger nuzzled gently against him again, closing his eyes and stroking Freddie’s hand softly. Everything will be brilliant. If he thought it hard enough it felt like it could come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There, have a fluff-angst cocktail. I was originally gonna have an epically awesome fight but eh you'll have to wait a bit more for that. So what'dya think? Like it? Happy this is a bit less confusing than the last one? Also, I made a little mood board thing for this story on Instagram, go check it out at bohemianrhapsodyroleplay


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand here's the fight! But it's not what a lot of you might think... XD

Roger yawned, pulling on some new clothes before going to breakfast. Freddie was in the shower so he was alone in the room. Roger chuckled to himself, it had been hard to convince Freddie that he would be able to look after himself for a few minutes, it should have been irritating but actually was rather sweet. He felt far better rested than he had done in the longest time; nightmare aside, he’d fallen asleep again and slept for a few more hours like a baby. He smiled softly to himself, he really was grateful to Freddie. He’d been so nice and kind and understanding, and certainly made a good pillow. Now, though he still felt an underlying tone of unease and anxiety, he felt far better. Who’d have thought a few hours undisturbed sleep could help his mood so much?

Humming to himself, he walked downstairs to the kitchen. Brian and Deacy were already there and were looking decidedly worried, they both stood when he entered.  
He frowned “Hey, is everything alright?”  
“Roger, where have you been?” Brian said in an exasperated voice.  
Roger blinked in surprise, taken aback “What? I’ve been sleeping.”  
Deacy pressed his lips together, frowning “No, I went up to your room earlier to check up on you, see if you were alright since you’d been unwell. You weren’t there! Brian and I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“But I was...” Roger frowned in confusion before it hit him “Oh! Yes, of course you didn’t see me, I wasn’t there.”  
“Yeah, no shit.” Brian said, raising an eyebrow, though both his friends looked far less worried at Roger’s relaxed expression.  
Roger waved dismissively “I wasn’t in my bedroom, I was in Freddie’s.” He explained.  
Deacy frowned “But why would you...? Oh.” He said, eyes widening in realisation.  
Brian, who’s cheeks had turned red all of a sudden, queried “So... You were...” He cleared his throat “In Freddie’s room?”

Roger nodded, obliviously, “Yes, I was...” his eyes widened “Wait no.” He said, seeing his friend’s looks “Nonono. No. Nothing like that! I was... We were just... No!” Deacy and Brian exchanged a look.  
Deacy put a gentle hand on Roger’s shoulder “Roger. You’re our best friend! And we love you, no matter what. Besides, something like this doesn’t matter to us, it shouldn’t matter to anyone. So you don’t have to hide–”  
Roger spluttered, cheeks red, “I know that! I’m not hiding anything! It’s not like that at all!”  
“Then what were you doing in Freddie’s room?” Brian asked, sceptically.  
“Sleeping! And I mean sleeping not...” he shook his head “Nothing else happened!”

When the pair didn’t look convinced, Roger threw his hands in the air in surrender and trundled past to the coffee machine.  
“Bloody hell.” He grumbled to himself, pouring himself a steaming cup of strong, black coffee. It was too early in the morning for this shit, he decided. Freddie sauntered in, shirtless and drying his hair with a towel, shirt strewn over his shoulder.  
“Good morning all! How is everyone this fine day?” he said, walking past Roger and stealing a piece of toast off of Brian’s plate, who swatted at him playfully. Freddie yelped and retreated, placing a soft hand on the small of Roger’s back as he passed him.

Roger groaned internally, that probably didn’t help his case. Sure enough, Brian and Deacy were both looking at him with knowing grins and raised eyebrows. Roger scowled and stole the other piece of toast from Brian’s plate.  
“Hey! I’m not a free buffet, you two realise.”  
Roger poked his tongue out, going to sit down.  
Brian scoffed “Oh, yes. Very mature.”  
The four of them sat, ate, relaxed. Roger smiled happily, he’d forgotten that moments like this could exist. So carefree and happy, surrounded by the people he loved. No sadness, no loss. In hindsight, he probably should have realised the moment wouldn’t last

There was a clank and jingle as the front door swung open and closed.  
“Alright everyone? Ready for a busy day of making music?”  
But Roger didn’t respond. No, he did nothing but stare, emotions bubbling hotly inside him, mixing dangerously, surely about to explode at any second. Because right there stood Paul. Fucking. Prenter. He was in a shock for a moment, as his friends around him greeted the man and talked to him friendlily. The calm before the storm.

Finally, predictably, he snapped.  
“You!” he said with the most venomous voice he’d ever mustered. Paul looked at him in alarm but didn’t have an opportunity to reply as Roger had already launched himself at him. He screamed in rage and jumped on him, causing them both to topple to the ground. He was too angry even to punch him, his fists just clenched around his clothes and shoulders like a vice as he shook him.  
“It was you! You’re the reason he’s dead! You killed him. You fucking killed him!” he shouted rawly, tears spilling down his hot cheeks as he started to rain blows down on him.  
“You killed him. You killed him! He’s dead because of you!” he cried loudly, desperately, as rage buzzed in his body, making him numb and electric at the same time.

Around him, his friends cried out in alarm and held his shoulders, trying to pull him back and ask what’s wrong. Somewhere in the background, ghost Freddie was alternating between laughing his head off and assisting in the efforts of pulling Roger away. Roger, though, was made strong by his desperation and continued to do anything he could, punch, claw, thrash, shout.  
“How could you?” Roger sobbed “How could you? He was alone! He was sick and dying and you kept him away from us! He was so sad and lonely, how could you? You monster! You monster, stay the fuck away! I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, you fucking evil ass bitch I hate you!” he was crying desperately, his body weak with grief but he kept lashing out, though he didn’t imagine that his hits were strong enough to hurt anything but the man’s pride.

“I should have know.” He cried, shivering now, his teeth chattering though it wasn’t cold in the least. He felt feverish “I-I should have seen! I did see, I ignored it. I saw how sad he was, how lonely. I saw what you were doing to him. I should have stopped it, I should have helped. My fault, it was all my fault. I was supposed to be his friend.” He sobbed weakly “My fault, all my fault, all my fault, all my fault.” He wept weakly, his body gone limp. His friends pulled him away gently. Deacy and Freddie went to Paul’s side, which almost made Roger start up all over again. A very worried looking Brian carried Roger out of the room, laying him down on the sofa.  
“Just... Stay there, yeah?” Brian said with big worried, confused eyes “We’ll be back in a moment.”

Roger sighed, as the door swung closed, and put his hands on his head. Well this was a fucking mess. He felt like a naughty dog locked out to sleep outside, or a child in the naughty corner. He yelped when a voice spoke right next to him.  
“Do you remember when I told you it was best not to act crazy?” ghost Freddie said, sitting casually on the couch next to him.  
“Freddie! Fuck... You scared the shit out of me!”  
Freddie grinned cheekily in response “Well, darling, you’ve made a balls of a job of it.”  
Roger snorted “True shit.”

Freddie bit his lip, looking down before up at Roger.  
“Rog... What you said...” he sighed “It wasn’t your fault.”  
Roger tried to blink back the tears “Y-Yes it was, Freddie. I could have stopped it, I could have saved you. I–”  
“No!” ghost Freddie exclaimed, tears running down his cheeks “Don’t you ever say that, Roger, don’t you dare think that!”  
Roger screwed his eyes shut in pain, his whole body shuddering with suppressed sobs. Oh, how he wished he could believe that. But he knew he could have stopped it, had he acted differently, and as long as that was true then this was on him.

“Do ghosts cry?” he asked, wiping his cheeks, to distract himself.  
Freddie huffed a laugh “Apparently. Roger, look at me.”  
Roger’s eyes looked everywhere else first but he finally managed to bring them up to look at him. Freddie smiled softly to him, brushing his hand over his cheek, the cold touch feeling nice against his flaming skin.  
“It wasn’t your fault, my love. How things turned out... Well, it was pretty shitty. But it wasn’t he worst. We had good times, at the beginning and the end; who cares what happened in between?” 

He smiled sadly “I had a good life, the best. Not because of the fame and fortune but because I had the best people in the world as friends. I lived more in a single week than some do in their entire life. I was happy, I am happy, and I always knew I wasn’t alone, even when I was alone, not truly. I was terribly afraid of being alone, but you guys, you fucking brilliant kind people, never let me be; even when I really deserved to be. I never thanked you for that, for everything. Thank you. But Roger... Please don’t blame yourself, I think that’d very well break my heart.

“I lived a happy life, and that’s not even the end! Look around you, my dear. Look where we are! You have the opportunity to change things, if it matters to you so much. And look... You’ve already done it.” He chuckled “So, punch people in the fucking face if you have to. But remember, I was happy and I still am. You don’t need to change anything for me. If anything, change it for yourself. You’re not obligated to do anything, this is your life. Wipe away your tears, my dear, you should be happy. You have everything you’ve wished for, do you not?”  
Roger laughed softly, wiping his cheeks “What are you, fucking Aladdin?”  
Freddie chuckled “You mean the genie, darling.”

He sighed “Yes, you’ve gotten what you wished for. But don’t lose yourself in it, my love.”  
Roger frowned “What do you mean?” he looked around but Freddie was gone. He sighed, long suffering, “Illusive ass ghosts.”  
Not more than a moment later, the door swung open and closed. Brian stood there, looking very ruffled and tired.  
He smiled weakly at him “Hey. You okay?”  
Roger nodded. Brain sighed, running the back of his neck.  
“What’s wrong? ...I mean, besides the obvious.” Roger asked.  
Brian worried his lip between his teeth “Um... Paul wants to speak to you.”  
Bloody hell.

Roger walked back into the room, everyone was quiet and solemn like he was in bloody court. He longed for the carefree atmosphere of earlier to return. He smirked, the messy bruises on Paul’s face made him feel a bit better. Paul smiling curtly at him made him feel like gagging again.  
“Roger.” He said, in a sad voice “I... I like you and I know you’re a good person, at heart. That is why I have decided not to press charges on this. I know that I am... Y'know, and not everyone is very accepting of that, don’t worry, I’m used to it by now.” He laughed fakely “But to–”

“Woah, hold it a fucking minute, mate.” Roger said incredulously, eyes wide with anger “I am not a fucking homophobe! I didn’t go off at you because I’m prejudice or–”  
“It’s okay, Roger, I’ve seen it all before. I’m not pressing charges because you seem like a decent sort of guy, and I understand that you were probably raised a certain way. But this type of behaviour is unacceptable. I’ll have to take serious action if there’s ever another incident.”  
Roger opened his mouth to protest but Brian cut him off “Thank you, Paul! Okay, we won’t keel you any longer. Can we have a moment? Bye.” He said, ushering him out.

When he was gone, Brian turned to Roger. “What the hell, Rog?”  
Roger scowled “He is only ‘forgiving' me because he wants the money and fame from our band.”  
“Roger.” Brian urged.  
“I'm not a fucking homophobe either!” he exclaimed indignantly.  
Brian sighed “I know that!”  
“Especially with what you and Freddie were doing last night.” Deacy snorted.  
“What?” said an oblivious Freddie.

Roger waved him off dismissively and turned back to Brian “I...” he sighed “Do you guys trust me?”  
Everyone nodded.  
“Okay. Good. Cus I’ll need your trust on this. It’s really, really important to me, and I can’t even say why.” He laughed humourlessly. Collecting himself, he continued “Don't trust Paul Prenter. Alright? Please, never do it. Don’t let him close, keep him around for work if you must, but do not let him close enough to even touch you. He’s... Manipulative so you may not even realise it’s happening but please please try to be careful! I don’t know what I’d... I’d bloody fucking kill myself if...” he muttered the last part but apparently they all heard anyway.

“Woah, that’s fucking extreme, Rog.” Deacy exclaimed, alarm etched on his face. Freddie was looking very ill and Brian looked like a combination of the two.  
Roger winced at his indelicacy but decided to just roll with it “Yes, I know but it’s true. That’s how much this means to me, that’s ow important it is. I can’t... I can’t tell you, I wish I could but I can’t. It’s probably better for you anyway, ignorance is bliss eh? But... Please trust me?”

Slowly, his friends nodded, though they looked very confused and concerned. Well, that was becoming a common occurrence.  
Roger sighed “Are you guys terribly angry with him?”  
Brian shook his head “Of course not. Just worried about you.”  
Deacy smiled encouragingly at Roger “Hey, I’m not mad. That was kind of hilarious actually.”  
Freddie smiled too, putting a comforting hand on Roger’s shoulder “That was a pretty good tackle, too. I’m impressed.” And like that, all the tension left. Roger smiled, as they talked and joked, ghost Freddie was right; they really were the greatest people and friends the world had to offer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How'd you like this one? Some gay fortune telling from the mum friends John and Brian, some emotional venting that we all needed from Roger to Paul and some enlightened ghost shiz from Freddie. I kinda liked this one, did you? Tell me in the comments!
> 
> Also, I know I say this loads but I can't say it enough and I mean it truly from my heart every time THANK YOU SO MUCH TO YOU ALL!!! You're brilliant people and your support and kind words to me and this fic really means the world to me so just thank youuuu <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna post this yesterday but I fell asleep literally in the middle of typing the end :/

“Hey, how are you guys getting along with writing some songs?” Brian asked, as they cleaned up the remains of breakfast. Unsurprisingly, after his display with Paul, they’d all lost their appetite. Roger would never bloody regret that though! Well… he didn’t regret punching Paul in the face, he did regret what he said though. He worried ghost Freddie, who definitely had enough on his potentially fictional plate without Roger adding to it. And the others? Well, they either think he’s insane or grieving for some mystery person’s death. Well, he was probably a balance of both but he didn’t need them worrying about that. They must be naturally curious, since for him to be that upset the person must mean a lot to him but they all knew all the people that meant a lot to him. Well, they didn’t know his wife or kids yet but… actually, they may never know them now. Who knew how much he’d accidentally changed?

Roger bit his lip, cursing under his breath when he tasted blood. He’d been regretting someone asking a question like that. How was he getting on with the music? Well he bloody knew it all already, didn’t he? He pressed a kitchen roll against his bleeding lip as he sighed in contemplation. What was he supposed to do? He obviously couldn’t take credit for any of his friends' future music. Should he just regurgitate the songs he already knew so very well, exactly as they had come the first time? Well, that sounded bloody boring. And he knew from decades of being a musician that if you were bored then your song sounded boring, no matter how good it was. He simply couldn’t have that. So, he’d scatter a few new ones in too. Mix old and new, yeah that sounded okay. Stay away from the others' songs and hope that they still create them in this universe.

Freddie responded first “Oh, yes I have an idea or two.” The smile on his face was magical, his eyes distant like he was seeing some whole other world unfold before him and it was beautiful. Roger smiled, though his eyes felt unexpectedly damp, he’d missed the way Freddie looked when he created music.   
“Yeah, I’ve got something in mind too I think might be quite good.” Deacy said with a proud smile. Roger grinned, he bet it was ‘you’re my best friend'.  
Brian nodded “Good, good. I’m experimenting with a few ideas too, should have something to work with soon.” He smiled “What about you, Roger? Got any ideas?”

Roger froze. What year was this again? What had he written? Which songs were even his? Of course, he knew the answers to the questions but in the pressure of the moment his mind went blank.  
“Um... Nah. Nope, nothing yet. I’m working in it, though.” He stammered, taking the easy route out.  
Deacy frowned “I thought you were writing something the other day.”  
“Yeah! That car one.” Brian said with a poorly disguised smirk.  
Roger felt an unidentifiable torrent of emotions bubbling up at all this. Why, he hadn’t the foggiest. Nothing had happened that should make him upset, so why was he on the verge of tears? It was so sudden, too.

“No. I scrapped that.” He said in a cold, emotionless voice, before he even consciously decided to say the words. Even after saying them, he was surprised.  
Freddie frowned “What's wrong, dear? I thought you loved that song of yours.”  
“No I don’t! It’s rubbish, I scrapped it, alright?” he said in a raised voice, his emotions everywhere. What was wrong with him all of a sudden? He suddenly felt very passionate about hating the bloody thing, which was strange. Despite all the teasing, he’d never before hated his song.

Brian’s lips twitched “Oh, come on, Rog. It... It was good.”  
Roger turned on him with a scowl “Oh, please. You hate the stupid thing, I know you do.”  
Brian raised his arms, surprise written on his face “Alright, alright. I know, but I’m sorry, Rog! I had no idea it meant so much to you!”  
“It doesn’t! It doesn’t mean anything to me, I hate the stupid thing!” he was full up shouting now, standing in the kitchen like a cornered animal, his surprised looking friends trying to placate him, arms raised in a calming fashion that seemed to rile him up more.

“Calm down, Roger.” Freddie said cautiously, like he was testing scalding water “There's only room in this band for one hysterical Queen.” He joked. And that pushed him over the edge. Because that was such a fucking Freddie thing to say! In fact, his Freddie did say that. Roger put a hand over his mouth and burst into messy sobs, running from the room as fast as he could. He didn’t look back, to ashamed, nerves too raw. He didn’t stop until he was safely inside his room. He carried a chair from the little desk and used it to block the door handle so no one could get in. Finally, he let himself breath, falling back onto his bed and crying hysterically, though he didn’t have the slightest clue why.

After a few minutes, the bed dipped under the weight of someone sitting there. Roger didn’t took up, curling in on himself.  
“G-Go away, Freddie.” He said, voice shaking with sobs.  
Freddie ran a ghostly cold hand through his hair “Not likely.” He said, smiling softly down at him. Roger sniffles between his sobs, his throat feeling raw and his nose and eyes wet an red in a very unattractive manner. At this rate he’d give himself a cold, from all this crying.  
Freddie was silent for a moment before speaking “Are you going to tell me what that was all about?”  
Roger didn’t do anything in reply, just continued to cry into the sheets. Freddie sighed, shifting closer and gently massaging Roger’s back; which was an incredibly weird but pleasant sensation as his fingers seemed to go the slightest bit inside him too and were ice cold still.

“Was it because of how much we tease you for that song?” Freddie guessed.  
Roger shook his head, looking up slightly “N-no... It’s nothing like that. It’s just...” he sighed pulling st his hair to gather his thoughts “I don’t even have anything against the song! It... It isn’t about the song. It’s about...” he tried to think about how to express his thoughts “Well, it just proves how much everything has changed. Because I’d never bloody write that song now, it’s too happy and carefree and ugh I don’t know. I’d just never write it now.”  
“Well, what would you write now?” Freddie asked patiently, his voice filled with understanding that made Roger feel even more emotional.  
Roger shook his head “Nothing. I can’t think of a single thing I could write about. It’s all gone, the happiness, the excitement, the hype for all this. What good am I in a band if I’ve stopped caring about music? And what good is my life if I no longer care about music? I’m a traitor in my own flesh.”  
“Roger, you haven’t stopped caring about music, you haven’t lost anything. You’re just sad, depressed even, and you have every right to be. After everything you’ve been through it won’t be the same as the first time. It’d be bad if it was, that’d mean that you haven’t grown as a person at all.”

Roger cried softly “H-How can I ever write music, how can I ever do anything at all, if you’re gone?” he said in a whisper. He heard Freddie let out a soft, pained breath and felt a cold hand brush through his hair.  
“Oh, my dearest. I...” Freddie swallowed thickly “I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you.”  
Roger shook his head “Not your fault.” He sniffled, wiping his cheeks. “I-It just... It hurts so much to lose you, you’re too precious. I love you so so much and I...” he cried harder, gripping the bedding “I-I can’t live without you Freddie. It hurts. I c-can't d-do it.” He hid his face in his hands “And then seeing him doing things that are just so you... I miss you so much.”

“He is me, darling.” Freddie reminded softly.  
Roger shook his head “No he’s not, he’s not my Freddie. You’re my Freddie. I want you, I love him but I want you back. Please please please come back. I-I need you. Oh, Freddie, I love you, I can’t do it without you.”  
“Hush, my dear. It’s okay. It’s all okay. Hey, look at me.” He said softly. When Roger did so, he smiled lovingly down at him “I'm right here, love. I’m not going anywhere, I’ll always be here for you. It’s still me.”  
Roger looked at him with wide eyes, considering that. He choked a sob but they were dying down slowly “H-How do I know that you’re real?”  
Freddie looked at him sadly and shook his head “If I say I am would you really believe me? Whether I am or not, I’ll still be with you anyway. After everything we’ve been through together, is it possible for me not to be where you are?”

Roger closed his eyes and tried to calm down. He looked up at Freddie and sighed “I’ve been a right twat about this haven’t I?”  
Freddie shook his head with a soft smile “No, not at all. That lot may not understand but they won’t begrudge you. They’re probably just worried.”  
He nodded “That’s what I’m afraid of. I’m trying to act normal, I really am. But I’ve already had every type of breakdown under the sun, and I’ve only been here two days! They must think I’m fucking insane.”  
“Well, I think you’re incredibly strong.”  
Roger smiled up at him “Thanks, Fred.”

He took a deep breath and sat up “I should probably go and talk to them. Make sure they don’t call the men in white coats.”  
Freddie nodded “Are you going to do ‘I'm in love with my car' then?”  
Roger shook his head “No. I love the thing but I can’t bring myself to, I don’t know why but it just makes me feel so sad. Maybe some day in the future I’ll release it. Who know? I have a whole life ahead of me again, don’t I?” and if that wasn’t he most terrifying thought ever. He sighed, wasn’t it ironic that the time he’d tried to end his life he’d gotten more of it? He was just so tired.

He turned to say goodbye to Freddie but he was gone.  
*******  
Brian, Deacy and Freddie stared at Roger’s retreating form.  
“Freddie, what did you do?” Deacy said, whistling.  
Freddie frowned “Me? It was Brian who hates his precious song!”  
Brian raised his hands in surrender “Well, I was trying to be nice about it at first, wasn’t I? Just made him more upset. What’s up with him anyway? He’s been acting so on edge and closed off, not like himself at all. He... He looks really sad sometimes, don’t on think?”  
Deacy nodded “Yeah, especially when we’re not talking to him, when he’s doing nothing else. He looks... Lost. I’m really starting to worry about him.”  
“And then there was his crying the other day! When he had those panic attacks. Something seems to be seriously wrong, it’s actually dangerously impacting his health we can’t ignore this.” Brian added, brows furrowed in worry.

“What do you think, Freddie? Do you have any idea what’s wrong?”  
Freddie swallowed. What was he supposed to say? Well, he knew that Roger was definitely really suffering and needed help. He was suicidal for goodness sake! So really Freddie should probably tell them that. But that felt an awful lot like betraying Roger’s trust. Maybe he could ask him if he could tell Brian and Deacy? Yeah, he’d do that.  
“Um... Yeah, he definitely seems to be struggling with something. I think we must keep an eye out for him to make sure he’s okay, and give him extra support. If we are there for him he’ll surely tell us what’s wrong soon enough. We just need to remind him that we love him and he can trust us.” Freddie said.  
Brian nodded “Yeah, well said, Freddie.” He pursed his lips “Maybe we can talk to him about going to see a doctor? At least to give him some medication or tips on how to deal with those panic attacks. He had them when we were younger pretty badly, when he was struggling with home and school. Haven’t seen him get then that bad since then. I mean, panic attacks aren’t going to kill him but he must be exhausted.”

“I wonder what he meant about Paul killing someone? Maybe he lost someone and that’s why he’s upset. Do you guys know anything?” Deacy asked.  
Freddie shook his head “Not a thing.”  
Brian shook his head too “Yeah, not a clue. Everyone I know he’s close to are alive.”  
“Maybe Paul indirectly caused someone he knew to die? Like in a car accident or something?” Deacy reasoned “I mean, he can’t have actually murdered someone... Right?”  
Brian shook his head “I don’t know, but I guess whoever’s dead shouldn’t be our primary concern. I think Roger would probably have directly warned us if Paul could potentially stab us in our sleep so I doubt we need to be too cautious. Let’s worry about Roger, make sure he’s okay and knows he can confide in us. Maybe try to convince him to see a doctor for some little help, I doubt he’d agree to anything major.”  
They all nodded in agreement.

Freddie sighed, feeling a little guilty. He decided that he would definitely ask for Roger’s permission to tell them about his suicidal tendencies. The knowledge would certainly break their hearts but not as much as if something happened to Roger that they could’ve prevented if they’d have known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dya like this? Shockhorror I'm in love with my car is gone!? Nuuuu!?!? Yeah this was probably unnecessarily angsty, I'm just kinda sad rn. Well, very sad. But I have this story and that's all that maters <3 Remember kids its always better to bottle up your emotions and vent it by writing about self destruction instead of actually destroying yourself. Also, I learnt today from random knowledge today that Beachy Head is one of the largest suicide spots in the UK. Thought that was kinds relevant to this story so. They even have a phonebooth and a bench with helplines on it. People are employed to stay there and make sure people don't jump.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Again, I wanted to publish this yesterday and I got it completed bar the final few paragraphs then fell asleep literally in the middle. I had to delete some lines cus I wrote them in my sleep and they made no sense XD

Roger closed the bathroom door behind him, sighing as he ran his hands over his face. The rest of the day had gone quite smoothly but he was just so bloody exhausted! He’d been on the verge of an anxiety attack all day and his body was paying the price, nothing bad had happened he was probably just suffering from the effects of all the stress he’d been under. But all in all the day had been very laid back. Nothing eventful had happened, they’d all just stayed out of each other’s way for the most part while they wrote. Well, his three friends had repeatedly checked in on him, especially Freddie, as if he was an old balloon and he could burst at any second. He appreciated the sentiment, at least, even if it was a bit distracting. Actually, he liked the distraction, when left alone too long he started to think of… well, basically everything horrid and awful, there was a lot for his mind to take its pick off. It also meant that he knew they were still there. Roger was afraid every second he closed his eyes or looked away that all this would fade away.

Still, their constant appearances didn’t make it any easier to write music. He still hadn’t managed to write a single word! Sure, the other three could probably write an albums worth of great songs alone, he didn’t like the idea of being a dead weight. Fuck. What use was he if he couldn’t even write songs? Maybe he was just a pretty face for the band like all the newspapers said. Not even that pretty, just easy. Well, he had far more important issues than whether or not he was attractive. He sighed self depreciatingly and strung his towel over the rail, turning on the bath to fill. He didn’t usually have bath’s but he just needed to fucking calm down, his nerves felt raw and even the slightest thing had his anxiety blooming; he’d almost bloody thrown up when a fox loudly knocked the bins over. Besides, the shower kind of made him panic. It was the running water, it reminded him of the river. He’d usually be able to handle it but with how tense he was he didn’t want to risk it. He really didn’t want his friends storming in if he collapsed from panic and they heard.

Pulling his clothes off, he strewed them to the side, keeping his pyjamas close enough to reach so he could change into them. He chuckled softly to himself, running his hands over his body. He hadn’t noticed just how much he’d aged until he was in his young body again. Granted, he hadn’t been all too old and was no wrinkled old man but he’d lost the firmness and glow of being in his twenties, definitely lost the energy. Well, maybe all that could be due to all the stress and worries of the future, they really hadn’t known how lucky they were back in these days when their biggest problems were money and pissy professionals. All the issues that had seemed so very dire were nothing to him anymore. As long as no one was hurt, as long as no one was dying, as long as no one was dead he could handle anything. Says the guy who had a break down over a song, he snorted to himself. Testing the bath water, he deduced that it was okay and had filled enough, turning it off and climbing in.

Letting out a deep exhale, Roger closed his eyes as he willed the stress to go away. Some tension left his body, at least, and the ever present pain eased slightly. He opened his eyes. His lashes, clumped together with water droplets, obscured his view. He sighed, as soon as he left the bathroom he was going straight outside for a cigarette. He winced, if he remembered correctly this was the period where Brian had been trying to get him to stop smoking. After over a decade of trying, his Brian was more prone to only kicking up a fuss if he started having a large amount in a small time, or stopping him having them when he was stressed because apparently that ‘promoted the reliance of the body on them to handle it’s self, you don’t need to do that to yourself, Rog'. Well, he personally knew very well that it was far too late to save him from an addiction but it was nice to know Brian cared. He frowned, where was Brian now? Hopefully, he was at home with his family, having a nice happy, peaceful evening; and life. Did he even exist anymore? Roger sighed as he started to wash himself, feeling guilty and sad, would he ever get to see his dear friends again? Of course he could, they were right downstairs. Like ghost Freddie said, they were the same people.

Speaking of ghost Freddie, where was he? Was he always watching? He did tend to appear when it was of interest to him rather than at random, surely that meant he was always at least somewhat aware of what was happening. Did he just wonder around like normal except he was invisible or did he cease to exist? Go somewhere else, perhaps? Did he have any control of when he appeared and where he went? Roger hoped so, it’d be even harder than this must already be for him if he couldn’t even move freely. He blushed brightly, if Freddie was always there did that mean that he was watching him right now? He would call out to check but that might make Freddie appear even if he hadn’t be here already, then he’d definitely see him naked! Well, Freddie had seen him naked, many times, but that didn’t mean that he wanted to be walked in on while in the bath.

Humming to himself a tunelessly tone, Roger sighed. Why was writing so hard? People always said write what you know. What did he know? Time travel, insanity, suicide. Yeah, that’d be cheery. Well, he could try, he could always scrap it if he didn’t like it; this was a bathroom not bloody court.  
“When I hit the water,” he sang, experimentally. He screwed his noise up, thinking of a tune, adjusting the tone of a few words “When I hit the water,” What next? “I woke up inside my bed. When I hit the water,” he snorted to himself, it sounded lame. Oh well, what else did he have? What rhymed with ‘bed’? “Was it all inside my head?” Good, that sounded appropriately fucked up and shitty, just like his life. If anyone criticised it, he’d say it was an artistic choice to sound like crap. Okay, now for the time travel. How to use it and not get locked up for insanity? “Cus the future is tomorrow, and the past is getting blurred. I look around deciding I’d really have preferred to have stayed in bed.” Well, it was better than nothing, he supposed.

Humming the slipshod tune, he sung again, joining all the parts this time.  
“When I hit the water  
I woke up inside my bed  
When I hit the water  
Was it all inside my head?  
Cus the future is tomorrow  
And the past is getting blurred  
I close my eyes, deciding  
I’d really have preferred  
To have stayed in bed.”  
There. Now no one could say he hadn’t been working on the music. Well, his friends would never say that, he himself was his own bigger critique, but he was paranoid about these things. He sighed, the problem with the song (or more specifically this prototype chorus) was that it was about his weird life, would anyone be able to relate to it? Surely, his fans would tire of meaningless words that had no relation to them? Oh well, he’d probably ditch the thing anyway.

Picking up a mirror and a razor, he decided to shave since he was there; he’d gone from kinda-sexy-rugged look to can-you-spare-change-beggar look and he needed to do something before he became blonde Santa Claus. Besides, he liked shaving in the shower or bath because then he didn’t have to bloody clean the hair, and Deacy always moaned at him if he left bits in the sink or clogged the drain. He tried to see himself and where he was shaving in the small, foggy reflection of the mirror. Really it wasn’t that much of a surprise that he ended up cutting himself. Hissing softly in pain, he dropped the razor as a reflex action. Which, in hindsight, was probably not all too smart of him. He grunted, though it was more out of surprise than in pain, when the little blade cut his thigh. Seriously, how much damage could one razor do?

Reaching down to grab it, he noticed how a small area of water was discoloured. There wasn’t enough blood to make the water red but it was enough to remind him of the river, how water under him, over him, everywhere had dyed red, metallic to taste from the flood of his own blood. He expected to have a panic attack, the smallest little thing seemed to drive him to one these days, but he was completely fine. A little lightheaded, maybe, from having an open wound exposed to blood but no panic. The incessant stinging burn on his jaw and thigh grounded him to the moment. He frowned, well he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He really should clean those cuts though, however small they were. Standing, he walked over to grab some tissues, which he pressed against his bleeding face and leg.

At the door there was a knock. Roger cursed and looked at the lock to make sure he’d definitely locked it, he had.  
“Roger?”  
“Freddie, what is it?” he squeaked, pulling his underwear on quickly. He winced when the fabric instantly became wet, sometimes he bloody hated washing.  
“I’m just checking up on you, dear. You’ve been awfully quiet.” He replied, almost able to cover his worried tone.  
Roger sighed as he pulled his trousers on and pulled the plug “Yeah, I’m fine, Fred! Just getting dressed now, actually. No need to worry.”  
There was a pause before he replied “Alright. Come out soon, okay? So I know you’re alright.”  
“Yes, Freddie. Any moment.”

He felt guilty for worrying Freddie like this, but he’d probably feel even more guilty if he’d hidden what he’d done from him, let Freddie keep guessing. True to his word, he came out as soon as he’d pulled his shirt on, still drying his hair. Freddie was waiting outside, leaning against the wall.  
He smiled when he saw him cone out “Hey.”  
Roger smiled back “Hey. I’m alright, as you can see.” He said, doing an imitation of a model spin.  
Freddie chuckled before frowning, reaching out and holding his chin “Your face is bleeding… So is your leg!”  
Roger grimaced and looked down, sure enough a small spot of blood had seeped through his trousers; the one bloody day he didn’t wear black!  
“It’s nothing, Freddie, really! I was shaving and I cut myself by accident.”  
Freddie raised an eyebrow “Oh, do you shave your legs often, then?”  
Roger shook his head “I dropped it!” seeing Freddie’s skeptical look he continued “Really, I did!”

Freddie still looked worried and suspicious but continued. “Alright. Well, I wanted to ask you… well suggest that maybe…” he shook his head and started again “I think you should tell Brian and John about you being suicidal, or I could tell them if you feel more comfortable. You don’t even need to say everything you told me, just maybe tell them you’ve been feeling like that recently?”  
Roger blinked in surprise, his heart beating more forcefully “I-Is this about the blood, Freddie? Because, I swear it really was an accident from shaving.”

Freddie shook his head “It’s not that, I just…” He sighed with a pained look “What if something happens to you and I wasn’t there but they were? And they could have stopped it but they didn’t know? That’d destroy all of us. I-I'm not trying to force you or anything, I’m not saying you have to. This is obviously very personal and it means a lot to me that you confided in me… sort of. I just care about you so much, darling. I’d do anything to make sure you’re safe. Besides, those two can tell something is wrong. You can trust them, you can trust all of us.”  
Roger nodded, swallowing around a lump in his throat “Yeah, I know. I know I can.” He said, giving Freddie a half hug.

He sighed, running a hand through him hair as he considered. He really didn’t want to worry his friends, but they were already worrying anyway. He didn’t ant them to treat him any different, but he was tearing at the seams and desperately needed all the support he could get. They’d hover and worry and over think things, like Freddie was doing; but was that really a bad thing? He didn’t ant to admit it to himself, he kept using ‘they didn’t know the whole truth' as an excuse to dismiss their views of him as misguided but had he not just tried to die only a few days prior? He didn’t really see himself as suicidal. No you just found life too hard to cope with so you decided to make it cease, a dry voice added in his head. Yes but surely now he had Freddie back he had no reason to die.

But hadn’t he only a bit earlier been thinking about how much easier everything would be if he was dead? Maybe he really wasn’t well, this sounded an awful lot like denial. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea to have his friends' help, they’d be able to see clearly when he was spiraling down, even when he couldn’t admit it to himself. Still, a dark voice inside him pointed out that if he told his friends then he’d probably not be able to successfully kill himself, should he want to. He frowned, that was it he had to tell them, because that definitely proved it: he needed their help. He couldn’t save him from himself, it was like playing chess against yourself, you’d always lose and you always knew the moves. He’d just have to trust their judgement when they started acting like he was a risk to himself, like Freddie with the bathroom. Bloody hell, this was going to be hard.

He turned to Freddie “Alright.”  
Freddie perked up, eyes surveying him “Alright?”  
“Alright we should tell them. But can you do it? I-I can’t.” even the thought had him shaking, he hadn’t even told Freddie, it’d been an accident.  
Freddie nodded, pulling him into a gentle hug “I know, darling. It’s okay, I’ll handle it. You are so very brave for doing this, I respect you so much for it.” He said, pulling back and squeezing his shoulder “It’s for the best, dear. Everything will turn out just fine.”  
Roger nodded, eyes watering “I-I'll be outside, I can’t watch this.” He turned and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay a cliff hanger, I know how much everyone loves cliff hangers(!) XD. So. Hi. Dya like this?


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mwahaha... Also, don't smoke kids. Especially don't smoke more than one cigarette at the same time.

Roger walked down the steps numbly, eyes watering with emotion from the weight of what he’d just done. Had he really just given Freddie permission to tell Brian and Deacy that he was suicidal? He let out a staggered breath, gripping the handrail of the steps to keep himself standing, he was ready to collapse at any second. It wasn’t too late, a dark voice in his head reminded. If he wanted to fucking pop his clogs he could do it quickly before anyone realised. Freddie already knew he was going to be staying out of their way for a little so he wouldn’t come looking for him, it was perfect timing to off himself he just fucking hurried. He winced at himself, raking a hand through his hair. And this is fucking why he needed help in the first place, because he couldn’t even trust his own mind to keep him safe. He had to stay alive. Why? Because everyone said that was the right thing to do. He may be able to write an essay on the advantages of ending his life but he was wrong, he wasn’t thinking straight. That’s why he had to listen to what others said instead. Right? He sighed wearily, he really fucking needed a fag.

With a new found conviction, Roger made a beeline outside. On his way he passed Brian who called out to him friendlily. Roger couldn’t look him in the eyes, not right now, if he did he’d burst into tears he just knew it, and he couldn’t have that. He’d been crying so much recently his tear ducts fucking ached. When Roger ignored him, Brian got up and started trying to talk to him, concern rising. Roger just couldn’t fucking deal with it, he tuned out all the words, eyes stinging. What if Brian hated him? What if Deacy hated him? What if he lost his best friends? Starting to panic, he all bit wrestled his way past Brian. Being attracted by Brian’s distressed calls to Roger, Deacy came in too. Roger couldn’t for the life of him say what he said. The moments, sounds, colours blurred into one. He had to escape it all or he’d drown. Gasping, running now, he fled the room, the building in general, and exploded out into the icy night.

The cool air was a grounding slap in the face, his breaths puffing faint white clouds in the cold. Roger leant against the old, chipped brick of the building, tracing the rough rock to keep himself grounded in the moment. He cowered beneath the lone exterior light, straining his eyes to make out shapes of the farm around him. He couldn’t see a thing. Mercifully, he had an almost full pack of cigarettes in his trousers pocket, he absolutely couldn’t go back in there and face his friends but he needed a drag so desperately it hurt, it’d be a real conflict of interests. Like a man in a desert, he fumbled desperately with his pocket then the feeble paper box that barred him from his prize. Finally, with numbing fingers, he managed to extract a cigarette and put it between his lips. He was thankful this was a ready rolled pack, if he’d had to role it with his feelingless icicles of fingers he’d just fucking snort the stuff he was so desperate. How he’d survived almost two full days without smoking he didn’t know. Well, he’d been distracted.

Flicking his lighter on, he lit the end. Even the little flame of the lighter felt like a blazing fire in the cold. It really was very cold. Surely he’d be unable to escape a cold now but he couldn’t bring himself to care, it was worth it to escape the house and get some much needed nicotine into him. As smoke filled his lungs and hash, merciful chemicals filled his body he finally managed to relax. He whacked his head back against the wall, eyes screwed shut, as he tried to not freak out. Brian loved him, Deacy loved him. They wouldn’t hate him. Fuck, what if this ruined their friendship? What if they crumbled apart because of him? Had he just destroyed that beautiful future they could have had. In a futile attempt to drive those thoughts from his head, he rubbed harshly over his jaw, which stung as he reopened the newly closed wound, like he’d intended. It did help a little. Fuck it. He got another cigarette out of the pack and lit this one too. What were they gonna do? Tell him he was killing himself like this? Trembling and not just because of the cold, Roger waited like he was in court awaiting a verdict.  
*******  
Freddie took a deep breath to steel himself for what he had to do. Thus was going to be hard but it must be done and it was very important so he had to do it anyway, he simply must. This was for Roger, this could very well save his best friend’s life. If he didn’t do this and something happened then he’d forever regret it, how hard this conversation was wouldn’t bring Roger back if he was lost. Holding the image of Roger standing on that damned brings in his head to spur him on, Freddie started to walk down the stairs Roger had just disappeared down. He could do this, it was just a little talk with Brian and Deacy. He’d done this all the time. He reminded himself of how awful it’d been to hear dream Roger’s cries, the horror he’d felt when he’d seen the blood up his arms and legs.

Freddie winced when he remembered the blood on Roger’s face and leg just now. He believed Roger when he said it’d been an accident but it reminder him of his dream and also reminded him of what could be. Sure, it wasn’t s harm this time but next time? Who knew. Maybe when he was feeling low he’d remember how accidently hurting himself had felt and decide to do it again? Then what? If it could jump from accidently hurting himself to self harm then it could very easily jump from self harm to slicing up his wrists to kill himself. He was suicidal. Freddie felt sick to the stomach even thinking it. He couldn’t lose his best friend, he wouldn’t. He’d never let anyone lay a finger on Roger, not even himself. But he just couldn’t do this alone and that’s why he had to tell Deacy and Brian. They’d be able to help, together there was nothing they couldn’t do. They were fucking Queen! Finally building himself up enough, he went to find the others.

In the living room he found a hectic scene. Brian kept walking up to the door, hand outreached to open it, before shaking his head and pacing then repeating the process. Deacy was at the window, pulling the blinds apart and squinting into the darkness as he struggled to make out shapes there. Freddie walking in cautiously, wondering what was going on.  
He decided to ask “Is everything quite alright? The pair of you look a mess.”  
Deacy looked up from the blind, looking surprised to see Freddie. At the door, Brian finally stopped pacing, giving Freddie a worn looking smile.  
“Hey, Fred. Um… well, Roger just walked in, actually ‘through' is probably a better word. We tried to talk to him but it was like he couldn’t hear us at all, or he was ignoring us.” Brian said, eyes shooting worriedly to the door every few words.

Deacy nodded “Yeah, he just went straight outside, he looked really upset. I reckoned he might need a little time alone to cool off, Brian thinks we should go talk to him. What do you say, Freddie?” he asked, turning to him. Freddie ran a shaking hand over his face, taking a shaky breath to calm his nerves. He could stand in front of a crowd any day, put him on TV and he was born to be there, but right now he was more terrified than he’d ever been before. Sure, he knew Brian and Deacy were going to be supportive of Roger, they were great friends of course they would be. And he knew that everything should really look up from here. But this was probably the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

Freddie looked up at his two friends who looked at him expectantly “U-Um… I need to tell you guys something. And you’re not going to like it. But I have to tell you and you’ll agree with me when I do that it’s far better that I tell you this even if it hurts.” He looked up to see what they though of this so far. Well, both men looked suddenly very scared. Brian was fiddling nervously with the cuffs of his shirt, John had grown very still, eyes dark.  
“Tell us, Freddie.” Deacy said in a quiet, strained voice, though it traveled easily enough through the sudden, tense silence.  
“Maybe we should sit down for this. I-I don’t know… should we? C-Can we? Please?” he stammered, feeling as if his throat had turned to a desert. This wasn’t such a big deal, he had no reason to be freaking out like this. Who was he kidding? Of course this was a big deal! And saying it out loud… it made it all so very real. Brian and John exchanged a look before sitting down, Freddie gratefully followed suit, hoping he’d be able to relax a bit more. He didn’t.

“Okay…” how to start this? Freddie grimaced, this felt like telling someone their loved one was dying. He silently vowed to never become a doctor. “So, you remember that time when we were wondering what was wrong with Roger and what to do?”  
They nodded, both men feeling the weight of worry increase tenfold at the mention of their friend’s name.  
With another deep breath, Freddie continued “W-Well… it’s a bit worse than we anticipated.”  
Brian frowned “Freddie, what do you mean?” he said in a quiet voice that trembled with emotion.  
Freddie felt himself tearing up little. He had to do this. For Roger. In fact, he should probably hurry up, Roger was probably freezing his arse off out there.

“Roger’s suicidal. I-I don’t really know much more than either of you, he won’t tell me much. He didn’t even really mean to tell me that but it just came out while he was talking. F-From what I infer, and this is inference I don’t know anything for sure, he tried to kill himself before and failed. I-I don’t know when or how or…” he let out a labored breath, silent tears running freely down his cheeks now “I think he’d do it again. I asked… he said he couldn’t honestly tell me that he wouldn’t. I don’t…” swallowed thickly, roughly wiping his eyes when his vision became too blurred by tears “I-I don’t know what to do. I don’t think he’s desperately trying to end his life, I don’t think he can’t be left alone at all b-but… he’s not okay, we can all see he’s very not okay right now. He needs our help, all of our help. I-I can’t do this alone, and you guys definitely deserve to know this. H-He told me I could tell you. He just couldn’t tell you himself.”

When the words finally came they flooded and he got it all out in one go, not daring to stop and look for their reactions. He couldn’t put it of any longer though. Finally, he looked up from his lap to the other men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I'm sorry but CLIFF HANGERS ARE JUST SO FUN! Besides, now you guys can place your bets in the comments about how you think they'll react! XD


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your wait is over...

There was a silence, the atmosphere so tense that Freddie was sure a sudden movement would split the air in two. He observed his friends, holding his breath. Both were silent. Deacy sat stiffly, staring at a spot on the floor, his hand gripping the sofa arm so roughly his knuckles had gone white and Freddie was surprised the fabric didn’t tear. To someone who didn’t know the man, he might have looked uncaring, unemotional even. But to Freddie, who knew John so well, he could see the horrified look in his wide eyes, the seriousness in the thinning of his lips, the way his hands trembled. He appeared too shocked and horrified to even know how to react, his breaths were shallow as if he was too afraid to even let any breaths out.

Freddie’s gaze snapped to Brian when the man let out a shaky breath that was almost a whimper. He lifted his hand to his mouth which shook so violently but was somehow still rigidly stiff. He shook his head, eyes a watery red. His breaths were so forceful that they made his whole body shake.  
“Brian, please you have to slow your breathing. You’ll hyperventilate like this.” Freddie said, eyes glistening with concern.  
Brian shook his head, the hand over his mouth running shakily over his face. He stood abruptly, pacing as if he just had to do something but had nothing he could do, nowhere to go. Freddie could only watch, having no words of comfort. What could he say? That it wasn’t as bad as it seemed? That it’ll all turn out alright? He wouldn’t patronise them with lies, but seeing them hurt like this was so painful.

Finally, Brian stood at a spot by the wall, resting his hand against it as if he could no longer hold himself up. Silent tears ran freely down his cheeks, his eyes burning bright with emotion, almost manic.  
“H-How long have you known?” he said in a shaken, fiery voice. Freddie was taken aback by the bite of his words.  
“Um, almost a day.”  
Brian’s hands kept balling or rubbing his arms or raking through his hair, like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“And y-you didn’t think to tell us till now? All the times I left him alone, all the times he looked so upset but I didn’t say anything. And you weren’t there! He could have... A-Any moment he could have...” he didn’t finish the sentence, screwing his eyes shut as if even the though was too painful “W-Why didn’t you tell me straight away? Why didn’t he tell me? Why are you telling us? W-Why him... Oh, poor Roger why did it have to be him?” he faded off into a sob, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, both hands clamped over his mouth.  
Freddie shook his head, standing and walking a few paces closer “Brian, I couldn’t just tell you! I couldn’t betray his trust like that. It is so important that he knows that he can trust us and that he’s not alone. It must have been so hard for him to open up about something so personal when–”

Brian cut him off, shaking his head. His voice was calmer now, like his flame had burnt out, but it was no less emotional “Freddie... Fred, Fred I know. I know that, I know... I know you couldn’t just tell us, you did the right thing. I know how important this is and how hard it must have been for him to do this. I-I'm so proud of both of you, this... This is fucking shit situation but you’ve handled it amazingly. I’m not mad... I’m just fucking terrified, Freddie. We can’t lose him, we can’t.” He said tearfully, looking up at Freddie with eyes more scared and lost than he’d ever seen, they looked so foreign on Brian’s face.  
Freddie sighed and nodded “I understand. It’s okay. It’s natural to react that way.” He sat on the arm of the sofa, feeling completely drained of energy.

“What happened?”  
The man had been so quiet that Brian and Freddie jumped when he spoke. Freddie looked over to Deacy, who was still pretty much where he had been when he’d first told them. He was still sitting there, still as a statue. Except this time he wasn’t rigid, he was limp, and he was slumped over himself, head held up by his hands. His face was covered in tears, even more silent than Brian’s. It looked as if rain had fallen on his cheeks or his face had decided to leak water rather than him crying.  
“W-What happened?” he repeated in a voice that couldn’t contrast Brian’s more, it was monotonous and emotionless: numb, like the unbridled horror and pain were too raw and had to be coated in protective layers till it was beyond recognition “He seemed just fine only days ago, better than fine! W-What the hell could have happened since then?”

Freddie shook his head. He felt so helpless, useless, he didn’t know anything, he didn’t have the answers to any of their questions. He knew only the smallest bit more than they did but they looked to him for answers because who else could they look to? No one else knew more about this than him and that was a fucking terrifying thought because he was completely lost.  
“I don’t know, I really don’t.” He said, feeling useless even as the words left his mouth.  
Deacy looked forlorn, rubbing the bridge of his nose “I-If he was okay before, a-and whatever happened is a new development then... If he tried to kill himself he did it right here under this very roof, under all of our noses and we didn’t even have a fucking clue.”  
“Shit.” Brian said from where he was sitting on the floor.

Freddie paled, feeling sick enough he actually had to swallow to keep his food down. That’d never occurred to him. He... didn’t really know how to make sense of what Roger had told him but that made sense, right? That he’d tried to kill himself here? Maybe he’d tried to kill himself while they were all sleeping and that’s why he’d had that dream–some kind of psychological cry for help? He didn’t really believe in that type of thing, at least not before, but now it was all that made sense. It was the perfect time for him to have done it, when everyone else was asleep so he was alone.

Besides, that’s when he’d started to act weird. He’d screamed and ran and broken down crying in his arms. But... He didn’t look hurt or anything. Surely he’d have horrific wounds or broken limbs or a bruised neck or a bullet hole or something if he’d just survived a suicide attempt? Surely they would have noticed. Maybe... He drank some cleaning product or tried to overdose? That’d leave no wounds just make him very ill, he had looked very ill recently. Hadn’t he run to the bathroom? Maybe he’d thrown up whatever he’d taken? Freddie shuddered at the image of a distraught looking Roger throwing up blood and pills, terrified and alone and wanting to die.

“–ddie? Freddie, are you with us?” Brian’s concerned voice cut through his thoughts, a merciful distraction. Freddie looked tearfully up at him, the thoughts of Roger like that having stolen any ounce of strength he’d managed to muster.  
He nodded “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He straightened, wiping his cheeks.  
Brian sighed, squeezing his arm comfortingly “You scared us there, you got really still and wouldn’t respond to us then started to hyperventilate.”  
Freddie sighed, looking at his friends, feeling quilt stab him in the gut. They had enough to worry about without him adding to it. Surprisingly, Deacy was looking as guilty as he felt, as if it was his fault for making Freddie freak out for pointing that out.

“Hey, guys? Um... Isn’t Roger outside on his own right now?” Deacy said worriedly “He must be freezing and who knows what he could be doing to himself without us b–”  
Brian paled and instantly stormed out, the door swinging shut loudly behind him before John could even finish. Freddie’s previous confidence in being able to safely leave Roger alone had faded from those horrible images his mind had decided to provide him with. He followed suit after Brian.  
“Hey wait. Guys? Guys! Did you miss the part where I said freezing? Roger is probably freezing? Like you will be in a couple seconds? I thought we were supposed to be keeping him safe! Will any of you grab a fucking coa–” the door slammed shut behind Freddie.  
*******  
Roger winced, the door opening sounding like a bullet in the silent darkness. He’d already finished his first two cigarettes. They didn’t help as much as he’d wanted them to so he’d tried three this time, though that caused him to double over with painfully raw coughs. Between the smoke and the bitterly cold air, he’d started to taste blood. He braced himself for the confrontation, cowering back into the darkness. He was so cold, he wouldn’t be surprised if his eyes had become ice and if he hadn’t occupied his mouth with smoking he was sure it’d have frozen shut. He was cold, he was tired, he was in pain, he wished whoever it was would just kill him already and put him out of his misery.

Two strong, warm arms pulled him towards a mercifully warm chest. Brian. Right, it was Brian. On the down side there was no way he’d kill him like he wanted. That was about the only down side though. Roger whimpered softly and pressed himself close to his friend, nuzzling close as if he could just disappear into a world that was only warmth and safety and hugs. He still didn’t know if Brian hated him now. Well, judging from the hug they seemed to be okay. Brian pulled away enough to look at him with big, teary eyes.  
“Oh, Roger. I... I love you, you know that? I love you so much, more than I could ever express.” He said, peppering kisses over his face “I-I just want to say how proud I am of you, that was really brave of you to let Freddie tell us. I...” he faded off into a sob, pulling Roger into a hug again. Brian frowned after a moment, tilting Roger’s chin up “And was that three cigarettes I just saw you smoking? THREE?” He exclaimed, slapping Roger’s arm lightly “You are so lucky I’m too exhausted and emotional to be very angry at you right now!” he pulled him into a hug again. Roger bit his lip, deciding not to point out the two freshly smoked cigarettes already crushed on the ground.

Roger yelped, pulling back startled when something fuzzy and heavy touched his back. He turned to see Deacy pulling a coat onto him. He gratefully pulled the insulating layer around himself, smiling thankfully at him.  
Deacy gave him a soft smile, resting a hand softly on his cheek “Look at you, you’re cold as ice! You know, you could have waited upstairs or something.” His words were casual but Roger could see a raging sea of emotions and hidden meanings and conflict in his eyes. He felt choked up again, seeing the affect his stupid problems were having on his friends first hand.

“Hey... I love you, Rog. You mean the world to me. I’m here for you, yeah? We all are. Don’t feel sorry about this, it’s... Well, it might not be okay but it’s going to be.” Deacy said, hand rested supportively on his shoulder. Roger bit his lip, maybe he got emotional when he was tired but the just... Awesomeness of his friends made him feel tearful. He pulled John into a hug, reaching for Brian and pulling him into it too.  
“Hey, Freddie.” He called out to the lone figure, watching from the sidelines “Get your arse over here!”  
Freddie grinned and walked, over, joining them all in a hug. They were all torn up, none of them were okay but in that moment it truly felt like they could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to peblezQ for the John coat idea <3 Hope you guys liked this chapter! I'd love to hear what you think in the comments :)


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I'm back! I'm not dead! Just had to deal with a few things. Well, I haven't dealt with them just procrastinated my feelings XD Besides, it's good to do something you enjoy to distract yourself. Sooo here's a longer chapter to make up for my absence! Also, a bit more on Deacy and Brian since I know you guys have been wanting more of them :) Tell me what you think in the comments!

Roger smiled serenely, swaddled in the warmth of the blanket. Freddie and Brian were in the kitchen attempting to make dinner, a fact that Roger was rather alarmed about, while Deacy sat beside him, discussing small nothings. Some other time he might have been mad, frustrated or maybe even offended at the very obvious arrangement to keep an eye on him but he was far too cozy for that and the nicotine running fresh through his veins helped keep him calm. This was what he’d signed up for, right? If his friends treating him like he was a toddler in need of baby sitting would make them feel less worried and ultimately keep him from offing himself then it was probably for the best. Besides, it wasn’t all that unpleasant, he liked just sitting there with John talking casually and just enjoying each other’s company.

Roger sneezed, almost falling off the sofa with his arms restricted by the blanket like they were. Deacy looked at him as if he didn’t know whether to be exasperated or amused.  
“See? This is what happens when you go outside in the freezing cold without even a coat or hat or bloody napkin at least!” he chided, fussing over Roger. He tucked the blanket tighter, feeling his forehead with a concentrated frown.  
Roger rolled his eyes “What’s the verdict, doc?”  
Deacy chuckled, pulling away and sitting back where he had been beside Roger.  
“Verdict is, you’re a reckless idiot who’s got himself a cold. You’ve been in here warming up but you’re still an icicle.”

He frowned again “I can go find a hot water bottle, maybe, to help you along with warming.” He stood and took a few paced towards the door before freezing, as if realising he mustn’t leave Roger alone. He stood there, conflicted. Roger rolled his eyes fondly, his friends were the most unsubtle people in the world.  
He decided to put poor Deacy out of his misery “No, that’s fine. I’m heating up just fine with the blanket. I’d be too hot with anything else. Come, sit.” He said, pulling a hand out of the blanket to pat the space next to him. Deacy nodded, sitting and looking a bit flustered. Roger smiled to himself, it was obvious that Deacy was trying really hard to look after him and was quite worried over it.  
Roger leant his head down onto John’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around the man’s arm “Thanks for sitting with me.” He said, hoping he got the silent message ‘thank you for caring enough to look after me, you’re doing great'.

Deacy smiled, running a gentle hand through his hair. Roger hummed in approval, he loved people touching his hair nicely like that.  
“It’s alright.” John smiled “We should do it more often, in fact. I know we’re always busy with work now but the lot of us mustn’t forget what really matters here.”  
“Money?”  
“No.”  
“Cute girls?”  
“Not quite.” Deacy chuckled.  
“Fame?”  
“Nope.”  
“Sex toys?”  
“Ew!”  
“Red Special?”

“Why’d your mind go from ‘sex toys' to Brian’s guitar?” Deacy asked with faux suspicion.  
Roger put on a guilty face “Alright, alright, you’ve caught me! Please don’t tell Brian!” he exclaimed, hiding his face in the crook of John’s arm as they both laughed. At that moment, Brian came in, looking flustered and a little guilty.  
He frowned in curiosity, “What’s up?”  
Roger and John exchanged a guilty-amused look “Nothing!”  
“What’s up with you?” Deacy asked, noticing Brian’s ruffled look.  
“Nothing.” Brian said quickly. He shifted nervously where he stood “I-I'd better get back to the cooking, hadn’t I?”  
“Um... Yeah?” Roger said, frowning in confusion.

John and Roger looked at each other in confused curiosity.  
“What the hell was that about?” Deacy asked.  
Roger shrugs “Beats me.”  
*******  
Freddie awaited anxiously in the kitchen, playing nervously with the hem of his apron. He looked up with a start when Brian came back in.  
“Did they hear the fridge shelf breaking?” he asked, eyes wide with worry.  
Brian shook his head “Don’t think so. They were just talking normally.” He bent down to examination the fridge “What’s the damage?”  
Freddie sighed “The eggs, mainly. They smashed when the shelf fell, they’re all gone. The milk fell, too, I stopped it spilling when I realised but there’s only the smallest bit left.”  
Brian shook his head mournfully “Oh, well. At least we still have the vegetables.”  
Freddie paled “Shit! The vegetables!”  
Brian, too, paled and the men ran to the stove, where the pan had set fire.

Freddie cursed under his breath “Isn’t this whole place made of wood?” he exclaimed in panic.  
Brian nodded and raked a hand through his hair “Okay, okay, um... Everything will be fine. We just need to put the fire out!” he said with faked optimism, not convincing even himself.  
Freddie rolled his eyes “Yeah, no shit. But how? I’ll throw water on it.” He said, moving towards the sink.  
Brian shook his head “No, don’t! Some kitchen fires are made worse by water. Just... Turn it off before the hob handle gets too hot to touch.”  
Freddie nodded, moving towards the sink in a jerkily fast panicked movement. He turned the little knob quickly, recoiling when the plastic felt hot to his touch. He stared forlorn at the still flaming pan, a sense of urgency bubbling inside him but he didn’t know what to do.

“Bri, maybe we should tell those two and just get the hell out!” he suggested, panic rising as the air started to get hot.  
Brian shook his head “N-No, it’ll be fine. No need to worry them, eh? Let’s see... So, we just need to cut off the oxygen and it can’t burn anymore! It’s basic science.”  
Freddie huffed “But how the hell do we stop the fucking oxygen? Breath on it?” He winced. Every second they fought and waited the fire got bigger. If it got out of the pan, they were done for.  
Brian bit his lip, pulling on his hair “Um... Put a bowl on it?”

Freddie shook his head incredulously but did as he was told, he hadn’t any better idea. Besides, Brian was the smart one so he must know what he’s talking about, right? He rummaged through the kitchen draws as fast as he could, panicking when he couldn’t find the right one. In his rush he pulled a door right off its hinges. Freddie stared in horror at the little door he now held in his hand. He looked up at Brian who looked back for a moment, both men staying still.  
“Just put it down, no time! We’ll deal with it later!” Brian urged “It’s that door, by the way.” He said, pointing to the one cupboard Freddie hadn’t already tried.  
Freddie huffed “Could have told me earlier, y'know.” He muttered, pulling out a large glass mixing bowl.  
“Perfect!” Brian exclaimed.

“Now what?” Freddie said, holding the bowl, feeling more than slightly hysterical.  
“Now, we take the pan,” Brian said, picking up the handle which caused Freddie to cry out in alarm “A-And put it on the bench.”  
“No, don’t it’s too hot, it’ll melt it!” Freddie warned, when Brian was inches from putting the pan on the kitchen top.  
Brian grimaced “Well, get a heat stand.”  
“We don’t have a heat stand!” Freddie exclaimed, staring at the growing flame in Brian’s hold.  
“Then get a damn wooden chopping board! Hurry, hurry I can’t hold this thing much longer!” Brian begged in panicked voice. Freddie made a squeaking sound and quickly backtracked to where he’d seen the chopping board.

“Hurry, it’s getting hot!” Brian exclaimed in alarm.  
“There, there!” Freddie said, putting the wooden chopping board on the table. Brian gratefully put the flaming pan down.  
“Now,” Brian said “We put the bowl on top.” He did as he said, encasing the fire and pan under the bowl. The pair watched as the flame started to fog up the glass, the top of the bowl turned a charred black and the chopping board started to smoke.  
“Now what?” Freddie asked, wringing his hands.  
“Now... We wait for it to go out.” Brian said in a shaky voice.  
“It’s not going out, Bri, it’s not fucking going out!” Freddie cried hysterically.  
Brian gave the fire one more look before conceding “Yeah. It would appear that it isn’t.”

Freddie let out a strangled sob “What now? Fuck, we’re gonna die like this!”  
“We’re not going to die. Freddie, calm down! We aren’t going to die!”  
“But what do we do?”  
Brian looked over to the fire “We get this the hell out of the building. You open the door, I’ll pick up the pan.”  
Freddie nodded “Be careful!” he shouted over his shoulder as he went to open the back door. A few moments later an alarmed looking Brian ran out, holding the considerably larger fire. A gust of wind blew roughly, causing the fire to jump to new heights.  
Freddie paled “I thought you said oxygen makes fires bigger?”  
“Yeah, yeah I did.” Brian said in a numbly detached voice.  
“And we just brought it to more oxygen?”  
“...Yeah.”

The fire jumped hire, blown towards Brian’s arm by the wind. Freddie and Brian let out a scream of terror, Brian almost dropping the thing.  
“Shit! Shit! Freddie what the hell do I do?” Brian cried desperately, extending his arm as far away from himself as humanly possible.  
“Throw it! Fucking throw it!”  
Brian threw the pan as far as he could, screaming in alarm as he did so. The pair stood panting, watching as the thing fell a few paces into the small woods.  
“Well... It’s not close enough to hurt us anymore.” Brian said in an attempt at optimism. All positivity was snuffed in an instant when the tree next to the pan and the grass that it lay on burst into flames.  
“Freddie get the fucking hose!” Brian shouted, running back from the flaming spectacle.  
“I thought you said water might make it bigger!” Freddie exclaimed, running to find the hose.  
“Well, what the hell have we got to lose?” Brian pointed out hysterically as they both ran for their lives. Freddie grabbed the hose and turned it on high, training the gushing water on the flaming trees as he screamed. Brian anxiously ran to find more water, finding a soapy bucket with a sponge in. With a cry he threw that at the tree too. After thirty seconds straight of screaming and throwing water, though it felt like an eternity, the flame finally died out. Brian and Freddie were left panting, staring in wide eyed shock at the smouldering, wet sight before them.

Freddie looked at Brian “...It’s cold out here.” He stated in a numb, dazed voice.  
Brian nodded “You’re wet now.” He pointed out, his mind frazzled.  
“You too.” Freddie replied, exhaustion rushing over him. He fell to the floor, his legs giving out beneath him as he giggled hysterically, the shock hitting him like a bus. Brian soon joined in, laughing so hard he doubled over and fell to the wet grass too. The pair lay laughing manically for the next few minutes until their sides ached and their extremities started to feel numb from the cold.  
Brian shivered on the floor, laughing tiredly “I-I think the water’s frozen on my face.”  
Freddie snorted, snickering gleefully “I think to water’s frozen on my dick.”  
“Why do you sound so proud of that?”  
“If it falls off I don’t have to pay to get it removed.”

Brian hummed “Is hysteria a symptom of hypothermia?”  
“Probably.” Freddie replied tiredly, curling up against the cold, wet grass.  
“We should get up and go back inside to warm up.”  
“Probably.” Freddie repeated.  
“...But it’s too cold to move!”  
“Definitely.”  
*******  
Roger frowned, concerned. He paced across the room, trying to deter the mounting panic attack. Freddie and Brian had been ages in the kitchen and he was freaking out.  
“Roger! Roger, hun, you have to stay calm. Breathe.” Deacy pleaded futilely.  
Roger spun on his heel “No, I can’t stay calm! It’s been two hours and they’re still not done! What could have happened? W-What if...?”  
“Hey, Rog, it’s okay.” Deacy said, putting his hands firmly but gently on Roger’s shoulders “There’s a simple solution to this.”  
Roger frowned “What?”  
“We check the kitchen and ask them what’s wrong.”

Roger blinked, feeling dumb “Oh.” It’d been a long time since he’d had a problem that could be solved that easily. It was... Strange.  
Deacy smiled encouragingly “Yeah, we’ll just go ask. C'mon, honey.”  
The pair walked to the kitchen, Deacy knocking.  
“Freddie? Brian? Are you two alright?” Deacy frowned when there was no reply. He saw Roger’s face paling, his eyes widening with panic. “Hey, hey, Rog. Calm, remember? You’ll hurt yourself like that. Let’s just go in and see?”  
Roger nodded, feeling his eyes sting with tears. He’d just lost Freddie, if he lost him again and Brian too he’d...

Deacy opened the door, paling himself at the sight. The room was wrecked: there were scorch marks everywhere, a cupboard door was lying in the middle of the ground, there was milk and eggs all over the floor, there was a soot black bowl lying half smashed on the floor and the door was open wide.  
“What the hell?” he voiced, poking his head outside only to see the hose unravelled across the yard and an empty bucket. The trees seemed suspiciously black too... Deacy turned away from the sight at a painful whimpering sound from Roger.  
“We’ve been r-robbed. They’ve been kidnapped a-and maybe murdered! Oh my fucking–”

“Roger, calm down! Hey, it’s okay. Just breath, just think about it. You’re on edge so your mind is making you jump to the worst conclusions, that’s highly unlikely and everything will be just fine! Now, I need you to breath. Yeah? Come on, with me. In 2, 3. Out, 2, 3. In, 2, 3. Out, 2, 3. I–” the heavy sound of knocking on the door had them both jump. Deacy sighed, looking in Roger’s eyes he could tell any progress the breathing exercise had made had been unravelled and made even worse by the knocking. Roger was physically trembling. Deacy, too, was incredibly... He didn’t want to say scared, more ‘on edge'. But what else would anyone expect? His friends had gone missing, the kitchen was trashed and now there was a spooky knocking on the door when they were in the middle of nowhere! Still, he was able to push it down in lieu of looking after Roger, who ready seemed to be on his wits end before all of this.

Roger, was terrified. His mind kept playing through his nightmare. Corpses and knives and blood and death, coursing through his brain like toxic blood. He held om shakily as John held his hand gently while he walked to the door. Roger wanted to shout at him to stop, if Freddie and Brian were dead he wouldn’t let Deacy die too! But his throat had constricted and wouldn’t even let him squeak. Suddenly, with no warning, ghost Freddie appeared. Roger screamed in terror, falling to the floor and drawing his hands up to his face to protect himself.  
“Shit! Shit! Roger, I’m so fucking sorry. I-I didn’t mean to scare you like that I... Fuck, sorry. I just wanted to ask what was happening.” Ghost Freddie babbled apologetically, kneeling down beside him.

Deacy, too, was at his side in a heartbeat “Roger! Damn, what happened? Are you okay?”  
Roger groaned softly, putting his hands on his face in embarrassment, exhausted tears burning in his eyes “I’m fine, John. J-Just answer the door, I’ll be alright in a moment.”  
Deacy gave him a worried glance but nodded, walking over to the door with a glance over his shoulder. He opened the door, letting out a yell when two figures stood there, groping for something to defend himself; he ended up standing with an umbrella in a defensive stance.  
“Um... Thanks for the thought but I think it’s a bit too late to offer us an umbrella, darling.” Freddie said, staring at him incredulously. Deacy let out a sigh of relief, it was Brian and Freddie.  
“What on earth? Where were you? What happened? I...” he shook his head “Get your buts inside.”

Brian and Freddie gratefully complied.  
Freddie frowned, seeing Roger curled up in the foetal position on the floor “Whatever is the matter with him? Really, I leave for a moment and–.”  
“Oh no no, you’re not pinning this on me!” Deacy exclaimed indignantly “This is your fault, you scared the shit out of him, out of both of us! We thought there’d been a break in, we thought you could’ve been kidnapped, killed even! Then you go bloody knocking on the door like that.”  
Brian and Freddie looked down, looking appropriately chastised.

Deacy sighed and shook his head, going to sit beside Roger, stroking his hand gently through his hair “Where the hell were you?”  
“We brought pizza.” Freddie said, lifting a delicious smelling pile of boxes.  
Deacy’s lip quirked “Then maayyybe I can forgive you. If Roger does, that is.”  
Roger looked up from the floor, looking exhausted “I’m fine, guys, really. I forgive you if you got extra cheese. If you didn’t I hate you and get out of my sight.”  
Brian smiled “Extra cheese, just like you like it.”  
Roger hummed, giving them an assessing look “Then I guess maybe I might still like you two.”

The pair closed the door behind them and got about fishing the food out. Deacy pulled a shaky Roger off the ground and helped him to a seat. Roger seemed distracted, shooting looks to a point somewhere over John’s shoulder every few seconds. He looked but there was nothing there.

“Oh, what did happen to the kitchen, by the way?” Deacy asked as they started to eat. Freddie and Brian exchanged a look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo that was different. Good different? Bad different? Idk what do you guys think? Also this reminded me of in the IT Crowd where hes just like 'Fire! Fire! Fire! – look forward to hearing from you, Morrise Moss' I can't spell. Watch it, it's funny


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. So basically, this chapter was gonna be one of those filler ones where nothing much happens. Roger was going to climb into bed with Freddie because he was afraid of nightmares and the pair were going to sleep soundly because they feel so safe cuddled up together. Then, the next day they were going to go shopping for the ingredients Brian and Freddie wrecked. Why do I tell you this you might wonder. Well, that's because that's definitely not fucking happening anymore. Shit got DARK shit got SERIOUS shit got ANGSTY. EVERYTHING ESCALATED VERY QUICKLY. So, I thought I might just tell you what was going to happen. Welp you definitely needed the previous chapter to give you a breath of fresh air before this!

Roger looked at the ceiling. Well, he looked in the general direction of where the ceiling must be, it was too dark to see his own nose let alone the ceiling. He shifted uncomfortably, turning to lie on hi side when a rusty bed-spring stuck painfully into his back. That didn’t last long either, however, as in the dark of the night the cool air felt like ghostly breaths against his back. He closed his eyes in a horrified grimace when he imagined nightmare Dominique’s figure walking closer in the dark, knife in hand. That was stupid, though, for so many reasons. One, that’d just been a nightmare. Two, at this point in time (if this was real at all) he’d not met her yet. Three, Dominique would never actually kill him. Four, why did he care if he was murdered by a ghost? He wanted to die didn’t he? Not like that he didn’t! He wanted something quick and painless, not to feel a sudden stabbing pain in his back and scream helplessly as his blood trickled out of his body till there wasn’t enough left to keep him alive. He shivered at the thought.

Besides, every second he spent here, reliving his happiest days with the people he loved, he... He didn’t want to die all too much anymore. That was, until he remembered the reason he wanted to die in the first place. The memories of Freddie’s... Of Freddie flooded his mind with barely the smallest trigger needed, scarring the walls of his brain with permanent horrors he knew he’d never be able to truly clear. It was stupid, it was so so stupid! Why’d he be so upset over something that hadn’t even happened? He was here now, he was in the past! He could fix it all so he’d never have to be in that awful position ever again but... It had still happened. There was no proof anywhere of it happening but in his head but it had happened. Freddie had suffered, he’d been in pain, he’d been so scared but he’d known there was nothing anyone could do.

Roger sobbed into his hand. He’d just stood there! One day, one of the last days, he’d been there by his side like always. He didn’t know what to say, what was there to say? Everything will be okay? I’ll make it better? Don’t worry? It’ll get better soon? Just be patient and it’ll all be gone? So he hadn’t said anything. He regretted it, he always would. He hated himself so violently, so surely, with a complete passion to that moment. So precious, every second he had left with Freddie was so precious and he’d wasted it with silence. I love you. That’s what he should have fucking said: I love you, Freddie. I’ll be here always. You’re my dearest friend, you mean the world to me. Thank you for making my world a thousand times better. You’re one in a million, a precious gem, irreplaceable. You will always hold a place in my hear. So many things he could have said, so many things he wished he could still say but the moment was gone, his Freddie was gone! He’d ever be able to tell him those things, he’d never be able to say. In some small, faint corner of his mind Roger thought he heart Freddie’s voice, ever so faintly, saying ‘I know, my love. You didn’t have to say it'.

Roger couldn’t stay still. Despite the cold, the blanket was stifling. It was too hot, it pressed down on his lungs restricting his breath like a corset, he couldn’t breath. He burst from the covers, gasping as he clawed at his head, pulling desperately at his hair to get the images of Freddie out of his head. He couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t bear it! Anyway, what was so very good about the situation he was in? When exactly had he decided to treat this madness as reality? It was confusing, it was a mess of what ifs and assumptions and uncertainly. He looked around the room, how did he know that anything he saw before him was real? He wanted Freddie back and Freddie was right here. He wanted to be able to talk to his Freddie again and ghost Freddie appeared. He wanted to be close to everyone again and he was back in the time where they’d all lived under the same roof. How could this be real? He was an idiot for thinking it. Time travel didn’t exist, ghosts didn’t exist, second chances didn’t exist, happily ever after definitely did not exist. Therefore, either the future was imaginary and this was real or this was imaginary and the future was real. Happiness, friendship, contentment–it was bullshit. What was real life was regret, death, helplessness. The future was real. This was a lie. Nothing he did here mattered, it wasn’t real.

He needed air. He stumbled to the window, opening it so desperately that the shutter swung open and hit the wall. He gasped desperately, a flood of cold air burning his lungs. He trembled, gripping the windowpane in a white knuckled hold. His head hung limply out the window as he tried to breath and calm down, his hair blowing gently in the cold but calm night breeze. His eyes were closed, his head pounding with an incessant headache. He would massage his temples to try to wane it off but he was too stiff and tired to let go of the window ledge. He probably wouldn’t be able to get rid of the headache anyway. Opening his eyes, finding himself facing the muddy pebbles so far bellow. Jumping out of a window was quick, just like he wanted. It wasn’t like being stabbed by a ghost. Well, he wasn’t that high up so it might take a while but surely he’d be unconscious as death took a hold? It would be the end of all the confusion, all the pain, all the memories. His friends... Who cared? They didn’t exist, they’d probably disappear when he fell because they were all inside his head. What happened if he killed himself inside a dream? Hopefully, his mind would be brought to peaceful nothingness, he’d maybe even die for real. That was a nice thought. In any case, what did he have to lose.

Biting his lip in concentration, he started to push himself up onto the window ledge. He didn’t to risk falling, if he fell back into the room by accident he’d make such a racked everyone would be sure to wake up and rush to see what was wrong. He managed to push himself up so that he was sitting on the window, his back to the outside. He didn’t want to die like that, he wanted to see what was coming. Slowly, wincing when the old window made a loud creaking noise, he kicked a leg over the side of the window, followed by the other. Looking down now the ground looked a lot more menacing, the air felt ten times colder. He swallowed dryly, his hands clammy. This didn’t feel like last time, last time he’d been so sure. Last time it had felt so... Right, he’d taken immense comfort in the thought of everything being over. Joy, even. Now he felt... Scared. He was scared.

He clung to the window, though he didn’t know why. Probably instinct, every other time (bar the bridge) he’d been standing somewhere high he’d been trying not to fall off. This time, well, things had changed. His eyes stung and his vision started to blur with suppressed tears. What di he do now? He was here. So he just... Jumped? Just a little push and he’d overbalance, falling to his death. It’d be all over. Would it hurt? Would he have time to process the fall? He tried to remember last time but all he could recall was Freddie’s ghostly form looking sadly down at him as he fell. Was that ghost Freddie? Where was ghost Freddie now? Roger hoped more than anything that he didn’t urn up, if he did he didn’t think he had the strength to do this. He closed his eyes and willed him not to appear, imagining walls, keys, locks, anything to keep his deep dark thoughts and intent private. He didn’t know why he did it, mostly just to feel a not better. Anyhow, ghost Freddie was a no-show.

So... He jumped, right? He gave a little push, grabbing onto the window again in alarm when his body started to teeter over. He chided himself, what was wrong with him? He wanted to fall, for fucks sake, he wanted to die! Why was he acting like this? Why was it so hard? He cried softly to himself, head resting against the window, legs hanging over empty air. He wanted someone to just make it all better, he wanted someone to fix it all. He wanted someone else to take control, someone who knew what they were doing. He didn’t know what was wrong or what was right, he didn’t know how to decide. He wished someone would push him over the edge or hold him close and save him. He just... He wanted living not to hurt so much. Was that too much to ask for? If so he’d settle for the pain to just go away. He knew how to do that, that was something he could do. If he regretted it, well, he’d only love to regret it for a few more minutes tops. He held his breath, closing his eyes, ready to push properly this time.

“Stop!”  
The sudden voice startled him so much he almost jumped right out the window. His eyes flew open, though he didn’t dare to look behind him, too ashamed. Also, looking away felt like abandoning his intent. He was going to kill himself, he would be successful this time. This changed nothing. Then why wasn’t he just doing it? It was weird. To think that every moment he experienced now was something he’d miss out on, seconds of life he’d miss out on if he had already jumped. He’d never know what Freddie said if he jumped. If he jumped... That’d be it. He’d be dead. Nothing.

“Don’t you dare move a muscle, Roger, stay right where you are!”  
Roger screwed his eyes shut, a sense of urgency arising. Freddie was closer now. It had to be now, he had to jump now. It was now or never. Freddie’s cautious footsteps stopped, as if Roger’s sudden lean forward had scared him. He heard him curse under his breath, when he spoke he sounded far more scared.  
“P-Please just think about this, Roger. I’m here now, it’s too late. If you jump I’ll call an ambulance and they’ll save you, you’ll have achieved nothing but mortally wounding yourself.” Freddie argued.  
Roger rolled his neck, feeling incredibly anxious and stressed. Why was this so hard?  
“Th-they might not. We’re a far way away from any hospitals.” Roger countered, his voice sounding cold and emotionless. Even his lips felt numb.

“You know I’m right. Either you get off there and we talk about this or you jump, end up in hospital and get sent to some mental institute. There is no way this plays out where you die, Roger.”  
“If that’s true then why do you sound so scared?” Somehow, Freddie’s urging him to not jump solidified his wanting to. Where before there was uncertainty there remained only resolve. Behind him, Freddie groaned softly, whimpering as if he was in pain. Still, he didn’t give up.  
“You d-don't really want to do this, Roger! You know you don’t!” he said, taking a new approach “This is too important a decision to make when you’re even slightly unsure.”  
“Why? Afraid I’ll live to regret it?” he joked cruelly. At Freddie’s pained sob he might have felt guilt only he was so very numb, he didn’t think he had the capacity to feel anymore.  
“Why would you tell me? If you really wanted to die why would you let me tell the others?” Freddie pointed out tearfully, sounding as if he was grasping at straws.  
“I told you because I want to die! I told you because I want to die so fucking much that I know I wouldn’t be able to stop myself.” Behind him, Freddie let out a shuddered breath.

“That’s not true, you know it’s not! That makes no sense, you told us because you want to live but you need our help to do that! Y-You're bad, yes, really really bad off but you still want to live, just a tiny bit at least. You know you do, you must know. Otherwise you’d never have asked for help, otherwise you’d have jumped already instead of talking to me. If you kill yourself this is all over. Life is over, you won’t get it back. Do you really want this gone? Do you really truly want that? Because if you even have the slightest doubt you have to get down from there right now!”  
Roger grimaced, he made good points. But he wasn’t right! He couldn’t be... Besides, he didn’t know that this wasn’t life anyway, it was all just a dream. Roger needed to rekindle the fire, before he lost the guts to do what must be done.  
“I didn’t ask for help, I slipped up. And anyway,” he said, turning to glare at Freddie “You don’t really want to save me. If you did you’d have come to grab me by now but instead you just stand there.”

Freddie stared at him with wide, incredulous eyes “Don’t say that, don’t you dare say that!” he cried with hot desperation “I am ‘just standing here' because I’m fucking terrified that if I get any closer to you you’ll freak out and jump!”  
“Oh please, I’ll jump anyway! Don’t pretend like you can’t see this is the only way. Y-You know how much I’m hurting you all, you see how broken I am. There’s no fixing this, there’s no way this plays out where we all live happily ever after. If I die now I’ll just save you a lot of time and pain and effort.”  
Freddie shook his head, big brown eyes sad and tearful “Rog, please... If you don’t want us to hurt then just get down from there.”  
Roger shivered, curling in on himself. He felt so small, so breakable.  
“It hurts, Freddie. Please... It hurts so much. I-I've tried to take it but I can’t. I can’t bear another second of it! Please, Fred, please don’t make me.”

Freddie looked at him mournfully “I know, my love, I know it hurts. You don’t have to bear it! Come back inside and I’ll make it all go away. Yeah?” he pleaded “W-We can talk this through, we can do this together. I know it might not seem like it but just... Give me a chance? If you do this then that’s it. Final. If you come with me you have choices, time to think, time to work it all out. Please, Roger, please.”  
Roger looked at him tearfully, looking at the room he didn’t dare step foot in. He could just go back in. Freddie would help him work through this, Freddie would make it all better. Freddie, Freddie, what did Freddie know? Freddie left him all alone, Freddie hurt him, Freddie didn’t care if dying would hurt him so why should he? He turned back so he was facing out the window.  
“I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to ‘work through this’. I’ve made up my mind. Final.”  
He took a deep breath and pushed off.

The wood and brick underneath him gave way to nothingness. There was a strange sensation in his stomach as forces unbalanced, gravity prevailing and he started to fall. He felt breathless, the mass of the sudden force pushing down on him knocking the air out of him. Beneath him: nothing but emptiness, air and his certain demise. Suddenly, arms wrapped around him, strong, warm and tight. He lost the little control he had and started to scream desperately, thrashing with all his might so he may escape the grip and finally, finally get some rest. Freddie swore, his arms tightening as he tried to pull him to safety.  
“Help! Help! Please! Please, somebody help me!” Freddie screamed desperately, Roger had never heard him so desperate. “Please, please help! Somebody help me! Hurry, please, somebody! Help!”

Then, another set of arms around him. The brick scratched his back painfully as he was pulled back up.  
“No!” Roger cried desperately, kicking, lashing out. He grabbed at the arms around him, trying with all his might to make them let go. He scratched them, pulled them, punched them but they wouldn’t give in.  
“NO! NO!” He screamed rawly as he was hauled back into the room.  
Another set of arms on him. All the scrabbled messily to try to find purchase on his flailing body. Kicking out desperately, he made contact with something soft. He heard an exclamation of pain and finally the hands gave in, wavering for the merest second while distracted. It was all he needed. With new found conviction, he made a run for it, breaking through the army of people trying to stop him. He didn’t recognise them as is friends in that moment, didn’t see them as anything more than a barrier between himself and his goal: one that must be overleapt.

He was so close to the window when they grabbed him again, more strong than ever before.  
“Noooo!” he screamed desperately.  
They must have discussed what to do because this time there was a strategy. Someone held him firmly around the waist, his main restraint. Someone had his legs to stop him kicking or running. Someone else had his arms so he couldn’t hit or try to loosen their grips manually. He was stuck.  
“Nooohoohooo! LET GO! PLEASE! Plehehease... Let me go! Get off, get off me! LET GO! Ahhhahhhh.” He started crying desperately, he was inconsolable. Giving up all hope, his body went limp. The shock of what he’d just done, the physical exhaustion, the emotional strain. Too much. Halfway to the door he passed out.

The three looked down when the man in their arms went limp. John frowned empathetically. There was such a contrast between the blank, peaceful expression of Roger now and what he’d just looked like. If it weren’t for his tear-slick, flushed cheeks he’d have thought he imagined it all. Roger was unconscious but still none of them let up their holds, too terrified to do such a thing until he was far away from that damn window. John shuddered, that was the most terrifying experience of his life. He’d been woken by Roger’s bed creaking and the footsteps. He’d been alerted that something was wrong by the screaming. He was horrified. If it had been just him then Roger would be dead right now. He cursed silently, why was his bedroom so far away? When he’d known something was wrong it’d still taken him far too long to get there, he’d been the last. When he’d come, Brian and Freddie were already desperately hauling Roger’s screaming, hysterical body up from out the window. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened. Roger had been so desperate to die, it was... Haunting. Scarring. John knew he’d never forget this horrible scene for as long as he lived.

Looking at his friends, he knew they wouldn’t either. They were pale, solemn, the gravity of the situation dawning on them too.  
“Are you okay, Bri?” he asked gently. Roger had managed to hurt them all in his blind panic but he’d kicked Brian square in the stomach. He’d doubled over and cried out in pain, causing the other two to start in worry and concern. That’s when Roger had gotten free.  
“What? Oh. Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little bruised.” Brian responded, sounding flustered and dazed. That’s how they all felt.  
John looked over to Freddie. He was completely stony faced, shut up like a prison cell. John sighed softly. Sure, he’d probably forever have a guilt complex over not coming on time but Freddie... Freddie must have been there from the beginning. It had been quite a while between he’d heard Roger get out bed and Freddie’s screams for help. Freddie must have gotten up to check on Roger when he’d heard the noises. That meant that he’d somehow stalled Roger for quite some time. How’d he managed that? It seemed completely impossible. He must have spoken to him. John grimaced at the thought. He couldn’t imagine how much that’d hurt; talking to Roger when he was in that state, being the only thing between him and death, knowing that these moments may be the last that he was alive. Then... Roger jumping. No, John couldn’t imagine what Freddie must be going through right now. He must be in so much pain. He knew the man and there’s no way he wouldn’t blame himself.

In the hallway, they hesitated.  
“Where should we bring him?” Brian asked, voice sounding hoarse. Whether it was from the screaming they’d all done or the kick John didn’t know.  
“My room. It’s closest.” Freddie said simply, his voice even worse than Brian’s. “Don’t worry, the window doesn’t open.” He added when they hesitated.  
Brian nodded and they carried him there, laying Roger gently on the bed, tucking him under the covers with loving care. He looked so peaceful. So very beautiful.

“G-Guys?” Freddie called out shakily.  
“Yes?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Um...” Freddie continued, sounding incredibly shaken still “Can you please stay? If he wakes up and... T-Tries again... I d-don't know if I’ll be able to stop him.”  
John nodded “Of course.”  
Brian agreed “Yeah. I’ll go get sheets for me and Deacy.” He said, turning to leave.  
Freddie shook his head “No, no, you two can take the bed with Rog, I’ll–”  
“Nonsense, Fred, it’s your bed.” Brian said before disappearing to get sheets.

Freddie didn’t look up, perched on the edge of the bed where he looked fixedly at Roger. He stroked his hair gently as tears dripped silently down his cheeks.  
John walked behind him, resting a hand on Freddie’s back “We need to do something.”  
Freddie nodded solemnly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Speak to me, guys. Are you still alive? Talk to meh ;-; ...Also, now I have 'Don't try suicide' stuck in my head :/


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here goes another chapter! Idk how happy I am with this but hey ho here ya go

Roger woke with a groan. His head pounded, his limbs ached and he felt as if any movement would send him gagging. This felt like a hangover, worse than a hangover. He didn’t feel any better when memories flooded back to him. His eyes flew open in panic. Where was he? This wasn’t his room.. Oh. It was Freddie’s. Looking around a bit more he saw the silhouetted figure of Freddie leaning against the wall, looking over to him with a sombre expression.  
He groaned again “Please tell me that was all a nightmare.”  
“Afraid not.” Was all he replied.  
He looked over to Freddie in surprise, he’d never been one for short replies. Roger’s mouth felt dry and he felt a sudden sinking dread hit him in the gut. Shame and guilt flooded him, growing larger in a constant gush. What’d he been thinking? Oh, but he’d wanted to die so bad. He still did, he realised with a shiver of fear. He’d never wanted this to happen though.

“Where are Brian and Deacy?” he asked, spotting some makeshift beds on the floor. Really, he just wanted to break the crushing silence.  
“Brian is making breakfast, Deacy is showering. They wanted to do that before you woke so when you did all three of us would be able to keep am eye on you.”  
Roger worried his lip between his teeth, he didn’t now whether he was more concerned by what Freddie said or how he said it. Although he said more this time, the answer sounded very short and clipped. It held none of Freddie’s jokes, charisma, personality. He stated nothing more than the necessary facts. As for what he said... It held the certainty of a lot of change. Sure, he knew they’d all been keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn’t hurt himself but this... This was full blown suicide watch.

Roger shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like this, he didn’t like it at all. It was like the first time he’d been caned. He’d been bad at school but he’d managed to completely forget about it by the time he’d gotten home. Only, when he did come home everyone kept looking at him with a stern, stony expression and eyes that held some sort of hybrid between anger, sadness and remorse. He’d tried to make jokes or talk or ask his parents what was happening but the sombre atmosphere hadn’t waned: he knew something bad was going to happen. But back then he’d been caned and lectured then his mum and dad had hugged him and it’d all been forgiven and forgotten. He didn’t think this was that easy.

He swallowed, hands clammy and eyes wide. He looked over to Freddie uncertainly; he didn’t know how he would react. Would he shout? Cry? Hate him? Ignore him? It was surely too much to ask for that everyone just forgot about this. Looking closer at Freddie, Roger felt another wave of shame hit him. Freddie really did look awful. His eyes were bruised with bags, he mustn’t have had a single second of sleep. To his horror, Roger saw a whole smattering of injuries on his face too. His lip was split, the corner of his eye had started to go an angry purple, there was a painful looking fist sized bruise on his cheek and there were scratch marks everywhere. Had he done that?  
“Freddie I-I’m so sorry!” he exclaimed, eyes wide with shock and horror “I d-didn't mean to hurt you I swear! I was just... I didn’t even realise that...! I-I didn’t...” he was starting to hyperventilate. He’d hurt Freddie. How could he have hurt Freddie? Badly, at that! Had he hurt Brian too? Deacy? They’d been there, hadn’t they? He let out a cry of frustration, gritting his teeth and pulling his hair. Why couldn’t he remember anything!

Freddie’s stony, blank look gave way to one of alarm and he closed the distance between them, sitting on the edge of the bed.  
“Roger. Roger, Roger please! Please calm down, my dear.” He said in a panicked tone, which felt like the sweetest song to Roger’s ears in contrast to his emotionless drawl. It took Roger a moment to realise that he was fighting Freddie’s grip, trying to scratch at his scalp and pull his hair. Finally self aware, he relaxed his arms so Freddie could pull them gently away from his head. The took each of Roger’s hands in one of his own, kissing them gently.  
“Darling, I know you didn’t mean it to hurt us, it’s really not as bad as it looks. That isn’t...” he sighed wearily “That’s not what we’re concerned about.”  
Roger nodded, not able to look Freddie in the eyes. He sniffed, surprised when he felt tears wet his cheeks. When had he started crying?

He couldn’t take this any more, he decided to ask the question that had been burning his mind. “Are you...” his voice caught, vision becoming blurred “A-Are you really mad at me?”  
Freddie sighed, his head hanging. He lifted Roger’s hands to kiss them again, rubbing his thumbs softly over them.  
“No, Roger, I’m not mad at you.”  
Roger looked up at him uncertainly “You look mad.”  
Freddie let out a humourless chuckle “I’m not mad I’m...” he let out a gush of breath “I-If I look mad, if I look upset or blank or whatever else I might look I’m sorry, please don’t believe that I’m mad at you I’m just–” his voice wavered and he let go over Roger’s hand as his own flew up to his mouth to cover a messy sob “I’m trying not to cry.” He finished in a hoarse, high pitched voice morphed by tears. Roger looked at Freddie horrified, his own tears amplifying in response to his friend’s.

Freddie shook his head, wiping futilely at his cheeks “I may be mad but not at you. I’m mad at the world for letting someone as perfect and precious as you suffer like this. I’m mad at anything and everything that’s hurt you and caused you to feel this way. I’m... fuck,” he wiped his eyes again “I’m so very mad at myself.”  
Roger looked at him, alarmed at that “What? What do you mean you’re mad at yourself? You did nothing wrong! You did everything you could to help me and to stop m-me f-f-from k-k–” he couldn’t get the last words out.  
Freddie cried softly into his fist “It’s my fault. I c-could have stopped this. I was the one who convinced the others that you were okay to be left alone. That was my call. I miscalculated and you almost died because of it. That’s...” he trailed off, shaking his head as he raked his hands through his hair.  
“Freddie, that’s not true! That’s not right, it’s not your fault! I... I was better before, it was all so sudden. I didn’t even think I’d do something like that only yesterday afternoon. It’s not your fault, you saved me for fucks sake!”  
“I shouldn’t have had to.” Freddie said with a stony resolve “I should have known better. With these things... It’s a very complicated and tricky business. I knew very well that the situation could take a nose dive any moment. You... You t-told me you were suicidal, I knew you were suicidal and still I left you like that? I can’t... How can I have been so stupid?”

He felt so conflicted. Everything hurt, everything made no sense. He wanted to be on Freddie’s side but Freddie’s side was trying to stop him from killing himself and he couldn’t let that happen. But at the same time he felt so ashamed at what he’d done. He wanted his life back, he wanted to die. He cared so very deeply about everything but didn’t care anymore. He wanted everyone to leave him alone but he wanted them to hold him close and tell him it’d all be okay. It was too confusing, it was too much. He let out a distressed whimper, his eyes rolling back. He closed his eyes because the room spun before him so nauseatingly. He curled up on his side, hands scratching desperately at his arms in an attempt to ground himself.  
“Shit!” He heard Freddie exclaim. The bed dipped more as Freddie climbed completely onto the bed, he held him down gently but firmly. He took his hands, pressing them to the side and ran a soothing hand through his hair.

“Hey. Hey, hush my dear, you’re okay. Don’t do that, Rog, you’re hurting yourself. It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m okay, too, just... Everything is fine, alright dearest?” he soothed, half lying down so he could pull him into a hug “Oh, my poor darling. I’m so sorry for upsetting you, it’s all okay my dear. I know this looks... Well, things look like shit right now but I promise you I will make it all better, okay? You don’t have to do a thing, my love, just hold on and give me and life a chance to fix things. Okay? Please, please believe me it may not seem like it but everything can be better again. You just need to be here with me for when it does, alright?” he looked down at Roger with pleading, searching eyes. Roger looked up at him with wide, conflicted eyes. He knew he couldn’t say yes because as much as he hated it that’d be a lie. He didn’t want to hurt Freddie, though.

He sighed, closing his eyes and curling into Freddie’s warmth “I’ve fucked everything up now, haven’t I?” he asked with a resigned tone.  
Freddie shook his head, running a hand through Roger’s hair “No you haven’t, my dear. It’s strange but in some ways it’s better this way. That sounds awful. I don’t mean to say this is good or that I’m happy about it in any way it’s just that it’s better for us to see how bad you are than for you to pretend that you’re okay. Suppressing your emotions will only damage you more.”  
Roger shivered, curling up against him “Freddie... Please help me I don’t know what to do anymore! I c-can’t take any more of this.”  
“I will. That I can do, my dear. I will help you I promise.” He kissed his forehead “I’ll make it all better. Sleep, my love, you look exhausted.”  
“You should sleep too, Fred.” Roger murmured tiredly “You need to rest.”  
Freddie didn’t respond.  
*******  
Even though Freddie knew that Roger was long since fast asleep, he didn’t stop stroking his hair and gently rocking him. He screwed his eyes shut. Alone with nothing but his thoughts he couldn’t distract himself from what had just happened. Roger had tried to kill himself. He’d really, actually done it. Sure, he wasn’t dead but he’d jumped. He’d fucking jumped. Freddie was surprised. Was he? Actually, he wasn’t really, more alarmed. He knew deep down that Roger would do it but it still horrified him. If he hadn’t woken up... If he hadn’t grabbed him... If he’d slipped... He sighed forlornly, there were too many close calls. No more. They’d crack down on this now. He was not under any circumstances going to lose Roger! He started to cry softly again from the sheer mental exhaustion and the horror. There was a thick atmosphere of sadness that had settled over them all now and wouldn’t go away.

It was one thing to see Roger die in a dream. It was realistic, it was horrible, but it was fake. Last night he had almost seen Roger die, his life could have ended. It had been so very close. Too close. That was why they had to go to get professional help. He, Brian and Deacy had discussed it; it was the only way. They wouldn’t let anyone take Roger away or make him stop working or anything (Roger loved his work). But they did need help, this was bad, this was serious, they couldn’t do this alone. 

The door creaked open and Brian walked in, smiling softly, sadly at the sleeping form.  
“Hey.” He whispered, not wanting to wake him.  
“Hey.” Freddie smiled tiredly.  
“How is he doing?”  
Freddie sighed “Well, he woke up a bit. He seemed fine at first but was very on edge and easily freaked out. He was very tired, I thought it’d be best to let him rest some more.”  
Brian nodded “Good.” He lay a gentle hand on Roger’s side, sighing and standing, moving away again “Breakfast is ready when he does come up.”

Freddie bit his lip “Brian?”  
“Hm?”  
“Are we doing the right thing? Going to a doctor?” The question had been nagging on him. It was the obvious course of action but the idea made his gut wrench.  
“Yeah. I know it’s hard but we have to. For Roger. He’s gonna hate it but he needs professional help, we’re not equipped to do what a doctor can.”  
“You’re right,” Freddie nodded “He is gonna hate it. Who’ll tell him?”  
“Bagsy not me!” Brian exclaimed, darting out. Freddie chuckled, throwing a pillow after him.  
“Coward!”

His smile fell from his face when he looked back down to Roger, brushing a golden strand of hair from his face.  
“I’ll make this better, I promise. I promise. I won’t let anyone hurt you, even yourself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think? Idk how good that was. I'm tired. Also, keep an eye out I should be posting a Christmas fic some point!


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Hope you all had a great Christmas! I took a little break for ugh... Socialising! Also, I wrote a Christmas fanfic so go check that out if you'd like. It's called 'Break Free From Your Lies'. Also, I got a bass guitar for Christmas! Daddy Deacy I hope you're proud <3 XD I also got the sheet music for the bohemian rhapsody soundtrack and some We Sing discs with Queen songs! Aaaghhh I'm dying I love iiitttt

Roger blinked blearily, waking up slowly. He felt both physically and mentally like he’d been hit by a bus but there was a soft warmth next to him that made him the slightest bit happy about waking up. He mumbled incoherently, curling up to get closer to the warmth with a soft smile. The surface beneath his head vibrated and a quiet chuckle filled the ear.  
“Good morning, darling.” Freddie said in a gentle voice, running a hand through his hair. Roger closed his eyes again, nuzzling closer to the touch, his smile widening. He may still be in trouble as far as suicide watch and his friends thinking he’d lost his mind went but it felt like a miracle to hear Freddie’s voice so soft and caring and comforting, even if he still sounded incredibly tired.  
“Mornin’, Fred.” He murmured, his words muffled by Freddie’s chest. He cooed happily when Freddie continued to run his hand through his hair, scratching and massaging in a soothing way. He could almost pretend like everything was alright. Still, he was kind of suspicious. Freddie was obviously trying very hard not to get upset or freak out but why? Had he finally gotten over the shock of his almost-suicide? Was he just enjoying him still being alive? Was he trying go make sure he didn’t trigger Roger freaking out again? Or was there some other reason? Roger mentally shrugged, he was too sleepy for paranoia.

“Roger, my love, are you feeling up for getting out of bed today? We have to walk into town again but if you’re too unwell then we can postpone or get a car or get... A delivery, perhaps.” Freddie hesitated abnormally at the end, as if he’d been about to say something else but thought better of it. Roger might have thought more over it except that he was distracted by his other sentiments. ‘Too unwell'? It wasn’t like he was sick or anything, he just had a little break down, that was all. Everyone was overreacting on a massive scale. He did hurt all over though, maybe he was coming down with a cold?  
“Yeah, I’ll be fine, I’m good to walk. I’ll get up in a minute, in fact. You said Bri was making breakfast?” He replied in what he hoped was a normal, put together fashion. He wanted to show everyone that he was perfectly fine and that last night was... An unfortunate anomaly. An overreaction. A misunderstanding!  
Freddie nodded, still looking at him as if he was porcelain “Yes, he came in a little while ago to say he was finished, and Deacy's out of the shower. They were going to come in here and stay with us but decided to just wait downstairs, since you were sleeping and we would probably come straight down when you woke anyway.”

Roger nodded, though he cringed internally at all the casual references to how they’d all be safeguarding him from now on. He sighed to himself, he supposed he’d have to learn to deal with it, at least until he could prove to them all that he was perfectly fine.  
“Alright then, I think I’ve lazed around enough.”  
He stood, stretching till his bones gave a satisfying click. He stifled a yawn behind his fist as he started to walk back to his own room. To his surprise, and slight annoyance, Freddie sprung to his feet as fast as he could, looking panicked.  
Roger rolled his eyes “I’m just going to find some new clothes, Freddie.”  
“Alright.” He replied, though his eyes remained worried and vigilant and he didn’t stop following him.

Roger rolled his eyes again as the pair went into his room. He took in the sight, grimacing. Apparently, last night no one had remembered to close the window. The wide open shutters and billowing curtain, in the context, was an eerie sight, considering what it reminded them of. Roger’s eyes slipped over to Freddie who, as he’d expected, looked rather unwell all of a sudden. The room itself was a mess. In his panicked rush to get out of bed, he’d left the sheets dragged half across the floor and the bed was a ruffled mess from his tossing and turning. There was a smashed vase on the floor with flowers scattered in a pool of spilt water, a cupboard had been knocked over and a painting on the wall was incredibly askew. Roger felt his guilt blossom all over again, this must have been from when he’d fought them all. He suddenly dreaded seeing Brian and John, had he hurt them as badly as Freddie? Roger himself was mostly unscathed, he had slight bruising around his waist where Freddie had caught him and on his ankles and wrists where he’d been held. It was nothing very painful, though, and he knew his friends hadn’t tried to hurt him. He, on the other hand, had lashed out in a blind panic and now his friends had to pay.

“Can you hurry up, Rog? Please?” Freddie urged. His words could have been seen as snappy or unkind but his tone startled Roger, he sounded incredibly panicked and short of breath. Roger looked over to Freddie again, finding him pale, eyes wide with fear and pain. He lagged back behind in the doorway, not treading any further into the room.  
Roger grimaced empathetically “Yeah... Yeah, of course, Freddie. Just a moment.” He rushed over to the knocked over cabinet and righted it, pulling the first items of clothing he could find. “There.” He declared “Let’s get out of here, shall we?”  
An ashen looking Freddie nodded stiffly as they quickly retreated. He didn’t start to relax until the door was closed behind them, letting out an audible breath of relief. Roger sighed to himself, he’d really hurt his friends, hadn’t he?

“Okay.” He clapped his hands together, it was probably best to move on “I’ll just go and get changed quick,” he declared, pushing the bathroom door open “But I’ll be down soon so... Freddie, what are you doing?” he frowned as Freddie swiftly darted into the bathroom with him.  
Freddie raised an eyebrow, as if it was obvious “I’m keeping a watch on you. I’m he only one here right now so I have to.”  
Roger frowned, feeling a bit of anger (though it was more frustration than anything else) spike up inside him “Freddie! Get out, I’m just fucking getting changed!” he exclaimed.  
Freddie folded his arms, looking at him sternly “I’m not going anywhere, Roger.”  
Roger gaped, mouth opening and closing a few times. What the hell? He knew his friends were worried but this was... This was... Unreasonable!

“Freddie, get the hell out! I’m going to be naked, you twat.” His voice raised as he grew impatient.  
“I won’t look, I promise. As long as I can be sure you’re alive and not doing anything to hurt yourself whatsoever then I don’t need to look.” It was clear that Freddie wasn’t budging.  
Roger let out an indignant scream “This isn’t fair! You’re acting like I can’t bloody be left alone for one single minute!”  
Freddie frowned, remaining patient but unpliant “Roger, we left you alone to sleep and within five minutes you tried to jump out the window–you did jump out the window!” he exclaimed. He shook his head sadly “The time it’d take for me to figure out something is wrong then find a way to get to you then try to save you... It’s too much. That could be the difference between life and death: your life and death. I know... I know that right now that’s not your priority, and actually you’re actively trying to... to... you know. But I care, and I have to work hard enough for to both of us to keep you alive. Like hell I’m losing you, Rog, I’m taking all the ‘silly little’ precautions because though they may seem meaningless at the time if it could save your life then I’m doing it. Whether you like it or not. Do you understand?”  
Roger pouted “Well, what if I promise I won’t do anything?”  
Freddie shook his head “Sorry, darling. I can’t take any chances whatsoever.”

Roger let out another frustrated cry, throwing his hands up in the air “Alright! Fine, be a fucking gay shit who wants to perv on me naked, see if I care!” He was probably being mean, but he was so mad! He wanted to fucking throw something. Why was there nothing to throw in a bathroom? He took a little satisfaction in knocking over the line of various soaps and shampoos. Freddie stood back patiently as he watched him vent some of his frustration. Seeing Freddie’s neutral face made his frustration spike even more. He huffed to himself and started to strip to get this over with, as he did so he muttered about ‘human rights' and ‘privacy’ and ‘over reacting'. He shifted uncomfortably when he was down to his underwear. He shot a look over to Freddie but, as promised, he was looking elsewhere. Roger sighed in defeat, taking his underwear off and quickly pulling new ones on. Soon he was completely dressed. Usually he’d have a shower but like hell he was letting anyone in when that happened. That was a fight for another day, he was ready worked up enough.

“Alright? All good?” Roger huffed when he was done “Are you fucking happy now?”  
Freddie pursed his lips and looked over him, as if to check for any bullet holes or stab wounds. Roger was sure he was doing it on purpose to wind him up.  
“Yes. All good, shall we go then?” he said with a sweet smile. Roger let out another cry of frustration and stormed past him, tramping down the stairs. Any anger he’d been feeling, however, faded in a heart beat at the sight of Deacy and Brian at the breakfast bar. He whimpered softly, as if pained, to see his friends just as beat up as Freddie with sallow, tired faces to match. What’d he done? Fucking hell, for all he’d put them through he’d better do whatever they say whenever they say, even if he was mortally embarrassed by it. He snorted; yeah, that was nice in theory but there was no way he’d not kick up an fuss. Both exhausted men smiled at him.  
“Hey, Rog!” Deacy said, in a voice quietened by fatigue “Did you sleep well?”  
“Yeah. I did, actually.” Better than the lot of you seemed to have, he completed in his head.

“I made breakfast, do you want some?” Brian asked from further in the kitchen. Roger chuckled, he didn’t know why the man bothered asking, he wouldn’t Roger skip a meal.  
“Um, yeah. Yes please.” He said to placate the man, he wasn’t actually hungry. Roger chuckled when Brian dished some food out for him “I think you’re a witch, Bri. You make this horseshit actually look delicious.” He said, poking at his plate.  
Brian laughed, shaking his head “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Rog. It’s just avocado and tomato on toast.”  
“Um... Yeah. Horseshit.” Roger insisted.  
Brian waved a spatula at him “Whatever. You’d better eat that horseshit, it’s good for you.”  
It was a light, happy exchange; it made Roger feel like there was still hope and he hadn’t horribly ruined all their lives with no hope of return. However, after that the room plunged into silence.

They all sat quietly at the kitchen bench, the air only filled with occasional sounds of crunching toast or slurping tea. It wasn’t even an awkward silence, he wished it was an awkward silence. No, it was a silence that was obviously created by every involved party being too caught up in their own anxiety, misery and sorrow to talk. The weight of what’d happened the night before, and the reality of the situation for now, hung above them. After a moment of this atmosphere prevailing, Deacy sighed loudly and stood, his chair skidding.  
“Fuck this!” he exclaimed and went straight to Roger, pulling him into a tight hug which elicited a surprised yelp from the man. “Roger... You scared the shit out of me!” he exclaimed, squeezing him tight and close, his words filled with earnest emotion “I... Fuck.” He shuddered “You’re too amazing, Roger, to brilliant and beautiful and funny and genius and perfect, you are too loved, to be lost like that. Don’t you ever do that again! You hear me?” he looked into Roger’s eyes for a moment before pulling him straight back into the hug, as if he couldn’t bear to be apart even for a single second. He might have sounded stern except for the teary tone to his voice.

Brian and Freddie watched the adorable scene from a few paces away, unable to keep themselves from smiling.  
“So, what exactly happened to the ‘play it cool, guys, act normal' plan.” Brian asked incredulously, folding his arms.  
“It went down the drain, Bri! Look at him. Look at him!” Deacy exclaimed, squishing Roger’s cheeks and turning his head to face the other two men “He looks like a sad fucking puppy! Don’t act like you didn’t want to pull him into a big fat hug too.”  
Freddie shrugged, smiling “I think he’s got you there.”  
Brian sighed and shook his head “Well, I know when I’m beaten!” He exclaimed, walking right over to the pair and joining the hug.  
Freddie pouted “Hey! I refuse to be left out of this.” He went quickly over to them, finally completing the hug.  
*******  
“So, we’re going to town. What are we getting, exactly?” Roger asked lightly.  
Freddie worried his lip between his teeth, the time had come for them to tell Roger about going to the doctors. This was... Not going to go well at all. They’d actually hidden as many breakables as they could from the room to minimise any, for want of a better word, explosions.  
“Um, well, we need to replace the kitchen supplies those two murdered.” John started, shooting Brian and Freddie a mock glare which made Roger laugh.  
“Alright. Yeah, having food so we don’t all die sounds like a good idea.” He smiled obliviously. The three other men exchanged a look, they really wished they didn’t have to do this.  
“There’s also another, more important reason we’re going, Rog.” Brian added. The solemn tone of his voice seemed to set alarm bells off in Roger’s head as he looked alarmed.

Freddie swallowed, bracing himself. This was probably just better to get over and done with, it was for the greater good, after all. Like an injection.  
“Yes, Roger. We... We’ve decided we need to take you to see a doctor.” Freddie said plainly, bracing himself for the inevitable backlash. Roger’s face paled, unintelligible emotion flashing behind his eyes. There was a moment of silence.  
“A doctor? Like... Sick people doctor?”  
Freddie nodded “Yes, dear. We aren’t able to properly help you. We are always here for you, of course, and will put our all into maintaining your wellbeing, as always we do, but... We aren’t trained, we aren’t professionals. This is incredibly serious and, white frankly, we need help. We can’t risk you hurting yourself or getting worse because we were too proud or arrogant to get help. Please, Roger. I know you don’t like this but can’t you see it’s necessary? At least do it for us. For our peace of mind?”

Roger’s eyes flitted rapidly, as if he was in deep, conflicting though as he tried to process it all. His breaths were shallow. Freddie was on the edge of swooping in and holding him close, trying to help him. He didn’t want Roger to hurt or be scared, this was for his own good!  
Finally, in a quiet voice, he spoke “Do you think I’m crazy?”  
Freddie blinked, shaking his head quickly “No. No, of course not! None of us think you’re crazy, Rog. We can see you are hurting and we can’t bear it! We just want you happy and healthy, my dear, and we’ve all agreed that this is the best way to go about it. Just give it a chance? We’re just going for a little check up, my love, if you don’t like it we can always talk about this more after.”  
Roger shook his head, grimacing as he started to back away from them “N-No... I don’t want to! I’m no crazy, I’m not sick. I don’t need a doctor!” he exclaimed in a panicked voice. Instantly, the three of them where on their feet, cautiously walking closer.

“Rog, it’s okay. Just breath, yeah?” Brian said gently, hands raised placatively.  
Roger spun on them with a vicious glare “No it’s not okay! You want to send me away, I won’t let you! I don’t want to go. Please, don’t let them take me away!” he cried hysterically, shaking his head. He looked so raw and sad that all the men’s hearts throbbed sympathetically. It really pained them to see their friend like this. That wanted to say it was okay and that they’d just forget about it but they simply couldn’t.  
“Roger, my dear, no one will take you away. I promise.” Freddie insisted “We won’t let anyone, alright? Besides, no one can take you anywhere without you saying it’s alright.” He reached out and took Roger’s hand slowly “Hush, darling, it is alright. Really, it is. We won’t let anyone take you away.”  
“Just talking.” Deacy added “They’ll just talk to you a little, look you over to see if you’re hurt. No one will take you away, no one will hurt you. We’ll be right by your side the whole time, yeah?”

Roger continued to shake his head forcefully “You can’t make me! I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to go!” he was shouting now “You can’t make me!”  
Brian looked at him with a stony look, as if he had to detach himself emotionally to do what had to be done “Roger. I’m sorry but this isn’t up for debate. If you refuse to go then we’ll have to call someone here. I’m sorry, I really really am,” he said in an earnest tone, self loathing flashing in his eyes “But we are having a doctor check you. We need to. And we will, no matter what we have to do.”  
Roger shook his head as he cried, roughly pushing them away “No! No, stop it! I won’t, I won’t... Stay away from me, stay away!” he exclaimed, curling against the wall. He slid down till he sat on the floor, as if he had no strength to stay standing. There, he sobbed pitifully, hunched over himself. He truly was a sorry sight. The other three looked at each other again, they didn’t know if they could do this.

Carefully, Freddie sat beside him. Roger whined, curling into a tighter ball and screwing his eyes shut.  
“Hey. Hey, it’s alright. Hush, my darling, it’s all going to be okay, my dear.” Freddie said gently, stroking a hand through his hair.  
Slowly, Roger started to relax a bit, though only a bit.  
“My love... I promised to help you. I will. You said you were hurting?” he asked softly.  
Roger gave a small jerk of the head as a nod, eyes still tightly shut.  
Freddie nodded, running his hand through his hair in a smooth rhythm “Well that’s not very good, now is it? We can make the pain less, till it is bearable and doesn’t make you hurt so much you can’t chunk. Then, if we work together and try very hard we can make it go away completely. How does that sound?”  
He shifted so he sat beside him, arms wrapped around Roger gently. He stiffened again before relaxing.  
“Let’s start with that, huh? Because that’s what matters the most right now: that you’re in pain. You shouldn’t have to be hurting, Rog, it’s not right. So we’ll make it go away. We’ll worry about the other things later, this takes the cake.” He kissed his cheek softly “It won’t seem so very hard anymore when the pain goes away, I promise.”

Cautiously, Roger looked up. His eyes were wide and red but held the slightest glimmer of hope. Freddie smiled lovingly, stroking his cheek gently.  
“There’s that beautiful face of yours.” He cooed “Roger, I don’t know why exactly you don’t want to go, I can think of reasons though. But really, this will help you. Besides, the doctors are trained to deal with all different situations, which includes how to deal with something they’ve never come across before. So if you think they don’t understand or they won’t be any help, stop worrying. Besides, it’s not the doctors who are in charge of helping you it’s us. Think of the doctors as the first method we are trying to help you, yeah? Like with medicines, we’ll try it and if it doesn’t help we’ll move on, okay? Don’t trust in some strangers, trust in us. If this doesn’t go well we’ll be here to you, we’ll take you right away from that place no matter what their supposed medical training says. We’ll take your word over theirs. We are on your side. We are doing this for you. Seeing the doctor... It’s of set in stone, we’ll try and leave straight away if only you say so. It’s your call. Just... Please give this a chance? It just might help.”

Roger frowned, looking at each of them as they all looked hopefully right back.  
He sighed “Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was longer than usual. Do you like it? Tell me what you think in the comments!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extreme stress has given me eczema and I'm bleeding ;-;

Roger felt like he was gripped in an iron fist which was slowly closing around him. Standing there, looking at the quaint little building with the doctors' symbol on it, he felt stupid. There wasn’t anything they could do for him. For fucks sake, there wasn’t anything wrong with him! It was just… He was just making a big deal out of nothing and scaring his friends for no reason. He was fine. Really.  
“Guys… this is a stupid idea. Let’s just go back.” Roger said, lagging behind his friends. Suddenly, the feat of forcing himself to walk into that building was too much.  
Brian frowned, walking back a few paces so he was beside Roger again. He put a hand on the small of his back comfortingly, the small affection making Roger feel like he might just cry.  
“It’ll be alright, Rog,” Brian smiled encouragingly “We’re just going to have a little talk with them, they’ll look you over a bit. In fact, you don’t even need to talk, we can do it. If we say something wrong or you want to add something you can tell us or the doctor, okay?”

Roger shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot “I just… There’s nothing wrong! We’re only wasting their time. There’s nothing wrong with me so there’s nothing they can do to help. They can’t diagnose me or cure me or tell me what to do to make it all better. Because there’s nothing wrong in the first place.”  
“Roger,” Deacy said, eyes big and worried and empathetic, making Roger squirm with guilt, “You’re obviously hurting. You’ve been suffering and that’s not okay, that’s not something you have to learn to live with. If we don’t try everything we can we’ll never be able to make it better.”  
Roger wrapped his arms around himself, wanting to run away from his friends and be alone but instead curling closer against Brian’s gentle touch. He felt embarrassed, like he’d made a fool of himself, made a big deal out of nothing and now everyone had the wrong idea. He wasn’t suicidal. Okay he might have… done stuff, but that was then, he hadn’t been thinking straight then. Now if you left him alone in a room with an open window he’d just… He’d what? Could he honestly say to himself that he wouldn’t use the opportunity to jump? Fuck, he was so fucked up. When exactly did everything go to shit?

He swallowed a lump in his throat “I’m fine.” His words sounded hollow and pained even to his own ears “I-I just… I’ve been making a big deal of nothing. I’ve been acting stupid and playing the victim and giving you all the wrong idea. I’m sorry.”  
Freddie shook his head, eyes tinted red and suspiciously watery “Roger, you’re not fine. You’re not ‘playing the victim’ you’re in genuine pain, we can see it in your eyes. You’re constantly hurting and it breaks my heart. You…” his voice broke and he mopped roughly at his cheeks to try and did himself of tears “If someone so much as considers suicide then they are by no means okay and they need help. You… Y-You jumped, Roger. We had to pull you back inside then restrain your thrashing body to stop you from jumping again. Please, my love, please just come with us. I only want to make it better, darling.”  
Roger felt dizzy and a little nauseous, any denial he had slowly rushing through his fingers like sand. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something in protest, wanting to be able to pull out some grand point that proved he was alright really and they should all just go home already, but he knew he had nothing. He closed his mouth, swallowing tearfully and outstretching his arms silently. Freddie smiled softly and walked over, hugging him gently.  
“It’s alright, my dear, you’ll be just fine, we all will. It’ll get better, I promise.” He murmured softly under his breath.

Eventually, all four men ended up in one big, affectionate hug. Roger closed his eyes, letting out a quivering breath. It felt so warm and nice surrounded by his friend’s soft, familiar bodies, feeling their undeniable love. His eyelids felt heavy and his limbs ached, now he just wanted to get this over and done with so he could go and forget about it.  
“Okay. Let’s go in, then.” He said with a small sigh of defeat, he smiled softly at the poorly hidden happiness and relief on his friends' faces “Just… please don’t leave me while we’re in there?”  
There was an instant murmur of ‘yes’ and ‘of course' and a chorus of nods. With that, the four walked into the building. It wasn’t big or overly glamorous but it seemed to be professional and of a high quality, none the less. There was a big ratty sofa by the way of a waiting area, where Roger, Freddie and John sat while Brian went to talk to the lady behind the desk. Roger looked over to them, trying to determine what was being said. He knew Brian was probably being vague and would never say anything that’d hurt him or embarrass him but still he suddenly felt like he was in a petri dish or menagerie, felt like everyone knew bad things about him and were staring at him under a microscope to study or worse to laugh at. Everyone line up to stare at the crazy man. Next to him, John put a comforting hand on his back and Freddie gently massaged his shoulder.

Brian walked over to them with a smile that reminded Roger of his mum when she’d organised a family road trip that no one wanted to go on.  
“So?” John asked, looking up at Brian when he came.  
“She said the doctor is just with someone right now but we’re next and they shouldn’t be much longer.” Brian said, poorly hiding some glances shot at the door.  
“Is the doctor properly qualified for this situation?” Freddie said in a his shed tone, as if afraid the doctor would hear him and get offended.  
Brian nodded assuredly “Yeah, it’s just one doctor but she’s an expert at everything, I’m told. She has the qualifications, naturally. The receptionist said her dual specialisation in both the psychological and physical aspects of biology proves useful, because often it’s a mental problem causing physical illness and vice versa.” He shook his head, realising he’d gone off to n a tangent “Basically, the doctor should be all good.” He gave Roger a serious look “If she’s not good, though, just say the word and we’re out of here, okay? We can always travel further or call someone in if need be.”  
Roger nodded, feeling flustered at all the effort that entailed all for him to see a doctor.

They didn’t have time to say much more because the door swung open and a couple walked out smiling, the woman heavily pregnant. A woman in a doctor’s coat stood in the doorway, looking at a piece of paper.  
“Um… Queen? I’m ready for you.” She said with a small confused smile, looking at the waiting area to see who’d come.  
Deacy looked at Brian incredulously “You put us down as ‘Queen'.”  
Brian threw his hands up “Well, I don’t know! What was I supposed to put us down as?”  
“Never mind, my dears, I think we’d better go in, hadn’t we?” Cut in Freddie.  
Roger felt a sudden wave of full blown panic. He didn’t want to do this. Sit down and talk to a shrink about how he’d jumped out a window? That sounded awful! Oh, by the way, Doc, I’m fucking insane, I think I time traveled from the future where I also, by the way, tried to fucking kill myself. Yeah, that sounded like a great conversation, he couldn’t wait. Breathing quickly, Roger grabbed onto Brian’s and, who was standing right next to him, and wouldn’t let go. Brian squeezed his hand comfortingly, shooting him a smile.  
“You’re so very brave, Rog.” He murmured softly as they all walked into the room.  
Roger steeled himself, as long as the other three were there he’d be okay.

The doctor smiled at them warmly “Have a seat.” She urged, taking one next to a desk full of intimidating looking equipment. “I must say, I’m not used to having such a large group in here at a time. Sorry for the lack of chairs, feel free to sit on the bed except for the instance that we are using it. So,” she looked up at them “What seems to be the problem. And who or which of you are the patients?” She looked over them, eyes hovering over the bruises and cuts on the three of their faces.  
Brian shook his head “Um, actually, the patient is Roger.” He gestured to him “We are fine.” He waved at their battered faces.  
Her eyes looked over them for another moment “Those look new and untreated. Before you go, let me take a look at them, I insist. You might as well since you’re here.” She pointed out.  
Brian blinked “O-Okay, sure. But Roger first.” He insisted pointedly.  
She nodded “Of course. Now, Roger, what seems to be the problem?”  
Roger’s eyes widened in fear, he did not want to do this. What did he say? He couldn’t tell the truth that was for fucking sure. Hadn’t the others said they’d talk for him? Why weren’t they talking? Was it too late to leave? He only calmed down again at the sound of his friends’ voices.

“Well, he’s been struggling recently.” Brian started “He said he’s had pain in his head and chest, sometimes his whole body. He’s been having really bad nightmares, struggling to sleep, feeling always tired. He’s had incredibly frequent panic attacks and anxiety attacks over the past few days. He’s…” Brian paused, as if trying to figure out how to phrase something delicately “He’s displayed self destructive tendencies that have had us all concerned. We just… we decided we had to seek professional help before something serious happened.”  
The doctor nodded, writing something down before looking up at them all “So, when exactly was his suicide attempt?”  
Brian spluttered, his voice raising an octave “W-What? Who said anything about suicide? N-No. No, that’s not… I didn’t say that.”  
The doctor sighed and put down her pen “Sorry, Mr…”  
“May. Brian May.”  
“Mr May, I know you’re trying to protect your friend but I need each and every one of you to be completely honest, okay? This isn’t going to work otherwise. We’re on the same side here, you want to help him, I want to help him. Work with me please? Besides, I am a highly trained psychiatrist, I can tell when someone’s lying.”

Roger trembled, that felt like ripping a plaster off. He wished it was this morning again and he was cuddled up in bed with Freddie instead of here. He felt sick, he wanted to disappear without a trace, straight into the ground. If he closed his eyes he could pretend they were talking about someone else. He could pretend it was the TV, maybe, some shitty doctor show he had running while he had nothing better to do. He let out a shuddered breath, as long as he didn’t talk she wouldn’t be able to tell he was lying, she wouldn’t be able to tell he was insane. Around him, the other three exchanged a look as if to confer over what to say.  
After a moment, John spoke “Last night. We came as soon as we could.”  
She nodded, scribbling something down. Roger rubbed his sweaty palms against his trousers, wishing he knew what her paper said.  
“Good, very good.” She said in a solemn tone “You can’t leave things like this any longer than necessary. In fact, you should have come last night–the door may be closed but if you come I’ll always tend to a patient.”  
“We would have but he passed out.” Freddie explained “He just looked so tired and he hadn’t slept, I figured he could use all the sleep he could get.” The fact that Roger had been hysterically fighting them hung in the air but remained unspoken, a fact for which Roger was grateful. He didn’t want to be carted off to some asylum.

The doctor tapped her pen against the desk “Hm… In the future could you please bring him here if he passes out? That could be a sign of any from a number of problems even if it seems like exhaustion. Even then, if he’s driven himself to exhaustion he may need medical attention too.”  
All three looked incredibly spooked, suddenly afraid of brushing off any little detail. How did they really know when something was wrong? They’d never forgive themselves if they overlooked something and Roger ended up incredibly ill because of it.  
“What was the method of suicide attempted?” she asked.  
“W-Window.” Freddie stammered, voice clipped as he became short of breath “Um… he tried to jump out of his bedroom window.” He clarified, a dark look on his face as the memories replayed.  
“I see. Are you able to provide a safe environment where you are situated? I’m assuming you’re living together, correct me if I’m wrong.”  
Brian nodded “I think so. We’ve started to make sure someone is with him at absolutely all times and are staying with him at night too to prevent what happened. We can go around and find any potentially harmful objects and get rid of them.”  
“Yes, please do. If it proves unsafe for him, or the current living arrangement becomes unhandleable then please be aware that there are other options. Not necessarily taking him to a secure living facility, although that is an option, but there are professionals who will stay with at risk individuals if it proves too much for all of you.”

“Thanks, we’ll bear that in mind but I think we’re fine right now, actually.” Brian insisted “We were hoping to get some anxiety medication or something for him? Really, he’s worse when he’s either having a panic attack or anxiety attack. He gets upset easily and defensive and feels intense physical pain, a few times it’s driven him to hurt himself. They mostly come out of the blue and last a long time, sometimes he has several in an hour.”  
She sighed “Yes, of course I’ll give him something. Still, we must remember that it treats just the symptoms, whatever is causing him to have the attacks is the real issue and we need to target that to truly help him. Now, when did this start? Try to think of anything that could have caused it.”  
Brian shook his head “Um… well, really it took us by surprise. I like to think we know each other very well and we can usually tell if something is wrong. This all happened suddenly. He was fine then the next day he woke up and looked anxious, upset, distressed even. Then it escalated into… this.”  
She nodded “Alright. Do either of you have anything to add?” she said, looking at Freddie and Deacy.

Freddie bit his lip, he didn’t want to say everything Roger said to him, he still felt as if that was under confidence. Roger had the opportunity to tell the doctor if he so chose.  
“He’s had trouble sleeping.” He said after a moment’s consideration “Nightmares. Actually, night terrors really. He woke up terrified, taking a little while to calm down too.”  
She nodded, looking at him thoughtfully “Right, right. Was this last night? After the suicide attempt?”  
He shook his head “No, no. It was the night before. I can’t say about any other nights but he did look quite spooked when he woke up the night prior to that.”  
She hummed thoughtfully “Okay. Would you all agree that this was sudden and unexpected?” they all nodded “And you can almost certainly say you can tell when something’s upsetting him, even when he’s hiding it?” they nodded again “Well then I’m going to continue under the assumption that this was suddenly occurring.”

She looked at Roger directly now. His breath caught anxiously as he awaited her to say what she wanted.  
“The first possibility is a head tumor. Don’t worry, I can check that right now without any scary scans or operations, okay?” she walked over to Roger “Now, can I just feel your head? I’m checking for any irregular bumps or inflammation.”  
Roger nodded numbly. A tumor? He didn’t want a tumor! If he had one he’d father not know and die blissfully in ignorant peace. He didn’t think he was mentally prepared to find this out but he supposed he was going to anyway. Her touch was gentle but convicted and clinical, she clearly knew what she was doing. He held his breath.  
“It’s alright, he’s fine.”  
The room let out a collective sigh of relief.  
“Have you had any recent head injuries?” she asked, looking into his eyes searching for low focus levels, limp movement or any other indicators.  
He shook his head, eyes wide with fear. He wished she’d move her attention back away from him.  
She clicked her tongue “Well, that rules out physical causes.”

She walked back to her seat and sat down “Has anyone close to him died?”  
John frowned “Well… Not that we know of. But when he was having a breakdown he was talking and he kept talking about someone being dead.” He mentioned uncertainly.  
She looked up at that, turning back to Roger “Has anyone close to you died recently?”  
Roger stiffened, his breathing going short. Don’t think about Freddie, don’t think about Freddie. Now was not the time to have a breakdown. His lips trembled, eyes stinging, as he thought of his dead best friend.  
“N-No.” he said in a quiet, shaky voice.  
She fixed him with an unwavering gaze “Are you sure? Remember, I need you to tell me the truth if I am going to be able to help you.”  
He shook his head again, eyes downcast as he willed back tears “N-No one has d-died.”  
Don’t think of Freddie, don’t think of Freddie, don’t think of F-  
Then, the last thing in the world Roger wanted to happen happened, ghost Freddie appeared.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back! Here ya go, another chapter. Not a cliff hanger this time! XD

Roger’s eyed widened in fear, this could not be happening. Of all the times ghost Freddie had to appear why now? Why in a doctor’s office when they were discussing his sanity? Why when he hadn’t had a chance to smooth things over about his suicide attempt? He couldn’t talk to ghost Freddie or he’d be carted off to an asylum, he couldn’t ignore him when he was talking about his suicide attempt and was probably mad enough without being ignored. Maybe he’d be lucky and ghost Freddie actually hadn’t realised what he’d done, maybe he’d been in some ghostly void and would greet him with a ‘what did I miss?’. Judging from his distraught expression, he had no such luck.  
“YOU TRIED TO KILL YOURSELF?” Freddie practically screamed, walking straight through the medical bed and doctor’s desk to stand right in front of him. Roger swallowed thickly, trying to keep himself from flinching or looking up, though his eyes started to water.

“Roger, are you alright?” The doctor asked in a professional yet concerned voice.  
Roger nodded firmly “I-I’m fine I... I’m fine.”  
Ghost Freddie looked at him with wide, manic eyes, pacing as if he couldn’t keep himself still “Roger... How could you? How could you treat your life so carelessly?” he exclaimed, voice shaking.  
Roger grimaced, arms wrapping around himself. How was he supposed to ignore him? He was his best friend, he was crying, it was his own fault that he was upset. He bounced his leg, gaze fixed firmly on his shoe.  
“Mr Taylor, can you please state what is distressing you.” The doctor repeated, looking him over for any symptoms she could note.  
Roger rubbed his head, feeling a headache build with a stabbing pain “I’m fine!” he said, voice raised. He winced at his own rough tone but he just... Everything was just... Why couldn’t they all leave him alone?

“R-Roger, my love, why would you do it? Oh my God this is my fault... Y-You tried to kill yourself, you could have died!” ghost Freddie exclaimed tearfully, silver hands raised to cover his mouth in horror as he burst into loud, heavy tears.  
Roger let out a soft sob, eyes flicking to the place where ghost Freddie was crying pitifully. Damn it, he couldn’t ignore the man. “Not your fault.” He tried to whisper under his breath, but he spirit didn’t appear to be able to hear him. The doctor, however, did.  
She spun to follow his gaze, eyes narrowing before turning to look intensely at him again “Roger, what are you looking at? Can you please describe it for me?”  
“N-No!” he said in alarm, eyes widening as he looked away from the distraughtly sobbing Freddie to the doctor “I’m not looking at anything, just space. I d-don’t like eye contact... Please, I’m sorry, not now, not now.” He said the last part to Freddie, distracted by his loud cries. His eyes flicked between the doctor and Freddie. What was he supposed to do? What had he done to deserve this? Well, maybe this was hell and he was being punished for committing suicide. He dug his nails into his palms anxiously, his head burning now and his chest starting to fire up too.

“Mr Taylor, look at me. Can you see me? Can you hear me?”  
“Roger, darling, whatever is the matter? Please tell me, my sweet love. Please tell the doctor, she can help you.”  
He couldn’t breath, though he tried hard but to no avail. His everything hurt and he didn’t know what to do. Tears spilt onto his cheeks as he breathed hard, looking around at the looming figures all staring at him. Their talking didn’t stop for a second.  
“Roger! Calm down. Please... It’s alright, just tell us what’s wrong.”  
“You’re okay, we just want to help.”  
“Mr Taylor, please respond if you can.”  
“Why would you do it, Roger? Why now? When you can fix it all? Isn’t that what you wanted, why now?”

Roger screwed his eyes shut and clutched his head as he let out a frustrated cry.  
“Leave me alone! All of you, leave me alone!” He cried, sending his chair flying as he stood abruptly, running as fast as he could out of the room. He sobbed hard, looking around quickly for a place to run. He didn’t have time to think if he wanted to beat the people right behind him. Outside meant streets, inside meant doors with locks. He ran further into the doctors building, weaving around corners as he tried to beat the footfalls he could hear right behind him. Where he was going, he didn’t know. Why he was going there, he also didn’t know. Did he think he could shut himself off from everyone forever? Run away never to look back? All he knew was that he needed to get out, he needed to be alone or his head would explode. He wished the floor would swallow him up, he wished he could cease existing.

He found a staircase and managed to gain some ground climbing as fast as he could, turning a corner while the other’s were still too far below to see where he’d gone. He checked the handle of every door he could find until one clicked open. He had no time to be victorious and swiftly swooped in, shutting it behind him. He found himself in a small, dark storage cupboard—it'd do for hiding in. He could start a new life in there. Most importantly, it had an internal lock. A simple thing, a little sliding chunk of metal, but it worked just fine for him. Quickly, he locked the door and not a moment too soon for seconds later the doorknob turned and rattled then the sound of cursing could be heard, then the pounding of fists on the door.  
“Roger, open up!” A voice called.  
Brian. Of course it’d be Brian who arrived first, he was fastest with his long legs.

For good measure, Roger looked for something to push in front of the door, finding a portable set of draws and doing so. He reseeded as far into the cupboard as he could, curling up in the corner as he looked at the door with anxiety, his heart pounding as he silently begged the pitifully small lock to hold.  
“What do we do? He’s not responding!” He heard John’s voice ask worriedly.  
Another set of pounding, renewed in speed and strength “Roger, my love, please! Please open this door, I promise you’re not in trouble just... Please please open it.” Freddie begged tearfully.  
Roger clasped his hands over his ears, he didn’t want to have to have to hear his friends so upset, he didn’t think he had enough strength to keep the door closed if that happened. He breathed heavily, trying to school his breathing and ride out the panic attack. It’s okay, it’s just a panic attack, it can’t kill you, he told himself as he tried to slow his breathing.

He almost screamed, a hand clamping over his mouth, when a person appeared beside him. Ghost Freddie sat staring at him with wide, sorrowful eyes. In the dim light, he emanated a ghostly glow, that was probably appropriate all things given.  
“Oh, my poor love...” he said in a voice thick from crying, eyes scanning over him as he lay a silver hand on him. Roger shivered softly at the cold rush.  
“I... I’m so very sorry.” Freddie said in a sad, earnest voice “This is all my fault.”  
Roger shook his head, curling closer to the comforting ghostly touch “No! Freddie, please stop saying that. None of it is your fault. Not this, not me trying to... T-to...” he couldn’t finish the sentence.  
Ghost Freddie grimaced in pain “Roger, please...” he sighed “I won’t ask you why you did it, I understand. That doesn’t mean I in any way endorse it. You cannot die, you will not die. I will not allow it.” He let out a soft chuckle “Those people won’t allow it either, from the sound of it.” He said, gesturing to the door.

“It hurts so much, Freddie! I don’t know what to do. I... I need help but there’s no one to help me, how can anyone help when they can’t even begin to understand? They think I’m crazy. I... I’m so alone.”  
Roger was fixed with a look so raw with emotion that he felt his tears start anew “Oh, Roger... You are never alone. Fuck ‘till death do us part' only shallow love ends when someone dies, I’m here for the long run. I understand, I can help you, I will always be here for you. I mean, I may make you cry and run away and look more than a little insane but hey, I’m not trained at this you can’t expect me to be perfect.” He smiled softly and kissed his cheek “And they can help you too, even if you don’t believe it. You can tell them if you want to, you can always tell them what you’ve gone through and I guarantee that they’ll believe you. Well, not the doctor. But you don’t have to tell them for them to be able to help you. The things that you’re suffering... Grief, loss, depression, self hatred, isolation... They’re universal, they still had those things in the 70’s. You’re a man of the future but you’re here, of you cry for help people can hear you.”

Roger bit his lip, hot slow tears flowing down his cheeks “I don’t know what’s real.” He whispered.  
Ghost Freddie sighed softly and kissed his forehead “I know, my darling. I wish I could somehow prove to you that I’m real, that this is real, that the world you came from was real too. I can’t but... Have faith. Please? Trust enough to preserve yourself, my dear. Take my word, what you do here matters. As sure as you’d bleed if you were hurt, you’d die if you fell from a window. And the three broken hearted men you’d leave behind are very real. Four, if you count me too ...or twice?”  
Roger let out a soft sob, hand covering his face “What have I done?”  
Ghost Freddie looked at him pityingly “You’ve scared the hell out of your friends. No matter, nothing unfixable I assure you, my dear. Just... Go outside. You can’t stay in here forever. It’s not as bad as it seems.”  
Roger shook his head firmly “I can’t go out there.”  
“Yes, you can! You should. You can do it, my dear, everything will be better than it seems.”

With that, Freddie disappeared. Roger huffed, pouting at the door. Now he had nothing to distract him from the people outside. His ears started to tune into their words again.  
“We can’t break down the door, Freddie, we’ve tried! If you try any harder you’ll dislocate your arm!”  
“Like hell I’m going to stop, Bri.” Thump “...Ow.”  
“That’s it, I’m calling the police!” the doctor’s voice carried, causing Roger’s eyes to widen in alarm.  
“W-What?” John said in a shaky voice.  
“H-Hey... Let’s not be so rash!” said Brian “There’s no need for that.”  
“There are dangerous chemicals in there!” she exclaimed “Scalpels too! I’m not having a patient die on my watch when I can help it.” The sound of footfalls.  
“Shit...” thumping again “Roger, open up! She’s going to call the police!” Freddie called in alarm.  
“W-What i-if... What if he’s already dead?” John said in a hushed voice.  
There was silence for a moment.  
“Roger!” “Roger open this damn door right now!” “Please, Roger, please!”

Roger winced, he hated hearing his friends sound so worried. He stood hesitantly, walking over to the door on numb legs and shakily undoing the lock. He pushed the door open and looked timidly out.  
“Roger!” He was pulled into a tight embrace then two more sets of arms had engulfed him.  
“Oh my fucking goodness, darling, do not scare us like that!” Freddie exclaimed loudly.  
“I’m sorry.” He said meekly.  
Brian looked him up and down assessingly, as if trying to see if he’d been hurt “No harm done, Rog, you’re alright and that’s all that matters.”  
“Hey guys?” Deacy cut in “Shouldn’t we stop the doctor lady from calling the cops?”  
“...fuck.”  
The four of them ran back downstairs in search of the doctor and managed to reach her while she was still talking to the receptionist, who was lifting up her phone for her to use.  
“Wait!” Freddie exclaimed “Wait, he’s out. He’s here, no need to bring the police into this.”  
The doctor looked up at them all before nodded and walking back towards her office “Alright.” She said curtly, looking at Roger like he was a bomb “If you’d all please re-join me in my office.”  
Roger looked into the reception area as he walked back towards the office. There was a young boy with his arm in a cast who was looking at them all in fear, curled up close to his equally terrified looking mother. He sighed, great. He wasn’t crazy at all.

“Alright.” The doctor said “I have a diagnosis but I’ll have to call you in for further testing to completely verify it. I’m afraid that only Roger can be in the room when that happens. We can make arrangements like you can all wait outside or I can call you in if he becomes distressed but I need the tests to be done in private.”  
The three men nodded slowly, though they didn’t seem happy about it.  
“Can I know your diagnosis, please?” Roger said in a small, dreading voice. The doctor’s eyes widened in surprise, it was the first time that he’d initiated the conversation. He had to know. What he’d seen in the library... He had to know.  
“Well,” the doctor said, giving him the look that Roger had seen thousands of times when he’d done training in a hospital, the look of when a doctor was dreading having to give a patient a life changing diagnosis “You have depression and a severe case of anxiety. However, I believe these to be secondary, caused by one bigger issue. I believe that you have schizophrenia.”

Roger felt like his life had ended. There was a misunderstanding, he couldn’t possibly have schizophrenia. She didn’t know about what he’d gone through! She didn’t know that he was actually from the future where his best friend had died so he’d killed himself and that he’d woken up in the past and that he wasn’t seeing things it was just the ghost of his best friend from the future. Oh yeah, a voice in his head said snidely, you’re soooo sane. He’d even figured as much himself, come to the conclusion in the library but... To hear it out loud, from a professional's mouth, was so much worse.  
“Woah, wait a second. You can’t be serious!” Brian exclaimed, wide eyed.  
“I’m afraid so, though I can’t be sure without properly testing him.” She replied.  
“But... But... Fuck, we just came here for some anxiety pills or something.” Brian said, wide eyed as he dragged a hand through his hair. He shook his head “I don’t believe you.” He stood up “You’re crazy and wrong and we are leaving.”  
“I’m afraid that if you do that I’ll have to call the police and report this to a larger medical institution.”  
Brian sat down again.

“That’s stupid, you can’t call the police because someone may or may not have a mental disorder!” Freddie exclaimed, wide eyed.  
“You’re right, of course, except for if the individual is a danger to themselves or society.”  
The three men sat in silence, exchanging a look.  
“He’s not a danger to society.” John added weakly.  
“He caused you all physical harm severe enough for it to leave marks even a day after.”  
“That’s not fair! He wasn’t thinking straight, he was hurting and panicking it wasn’t his fault!” Freddie countered.  
“So he did cause that then?” she sighed “I don’t want to call the police, really I don’t! I don’t for a single second believe that carting people away to big clinical buildings and locking them away helps for a second! That’s why I really implore you to just go with this, okay? I know that it’s scary but whether or not you acknowledge it if he has schizophrenia he has schizophrenia, ignoring it will only make it worse. Acknowledging it... It isn’t the end of the line, he would have had it all this time and you’d all have been dealing with it anyway. No, it means that things can finally look up. It’s not a life sentence it’s a disorder, and it can be helped. If we treat this properly then your friend can lead a completely normal life, just maybe take a pill or two. So what do you say?”

“I’ll do it.” Roger answered. He was terrified but she was right. He’d hurt his friends, that was the fact. He was a danger to himself, he was a danger to society. Whether or not he was really schizophrenic or not that was the truth.  
“Good.” She said with a soft smile “Is Wednesday, 11am alright?”  
He nodded, breathing deeply to try to stay calm.  
“So do we get the anxiety meds or not?” Brian asked.  
She chuckled, writing on a piece of paper “Yes you do. You can pick them up at reception. I can’t prescribe anything for the schizophrenia until it’s properly diagnosed, though. When you get them, I’d strongly advise that you keep them under careful watch and make sure you give them to him to make sure only one is consumed at a time. He should have them regularly at four hour intervals, if they prove ineffective tell me next appointment or call in on me if it cannot wait.”  
Brian nodded and took the piece of paper.  
“Now, let me see to those injuries...”  
*******  
She sighed and stood “Well, that’s you boys done for now.”  
The three of them were newly covered in plasters and ice packs, Brian had been prescribed some mild pain killers for his severely bruised stomach and anti-inflammatory pills to take if he had difficulty consuming food.  
“I’ll see you on Wednesday, then. But please feel free to come if you need anything sooner. Now,” she shuffled with a draw, pulling out something “I usually reserve these for children but I think you’ve all definitely earned a sticker!”  
Brian smiled “That’s nice, thanks, but we don’t—Freddie what are you doing?”  
Freddie looked up from where he was putting two stickers on his chest to look like nipples “I’m taking my stickers, Bri, you heard the woman! I earnt it.”  
Brian rolled his eyes “You’re such a child sometimes, you—John, not you too!”  
John looked up sheepishly from carefully applying a sticker to his chest pocket “...They’re stickers, Brian. Sticker’s are fun!”  
Roger allowed himself a small smile. It wasn’t all so bad, he supposed, as long as his friends stayed with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what'd you think? In an alternative idea for this chapter, Roger ended up being stabbed with a tranq and driven home. Dun dun dun, is Roger crazy? Is he ever going to tell the boys what happened? What'll happen now? Tell me what you think in the comments! Until next time :3


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand time for some more angst! Though... Different. Let's see what our beautiful Brian has to say.

Brian’s eyes flicked over to Roger for what was probably the thousandth time since they’d left the doctor’s office at least. Still, the sight was much the same. Roger had completely withdrawn since they’d left, becoming sullen and quiet, worryingly so even in comparison to the past few days. He wasn’t having a panic attack, Brian was sure, he’d learnt to become familiar with Roger’s tells. He wasn’t zoned out or having a breakdown, his eyes were clear and focused, he just looked... Irremeably sad. Like he’d given up. Brian sighed to himself, his fists clenching at his sides as he felt a sudden and sharp rush of anger. How could this be right? He didn’t know whether Roger had schizophrenia or not (though he had very high doubts, no matter what the doctor said) and quite frankly he didn’t care. Well, of course he cared that his friend was suffering, but that was all. He didn’t see Roger as different or lesser or scary or anything else. He was Roger, he was in pain, that needed to be fixed.

It was as simple as that to him, not complicating it with labels or hiding behind diagnoses. That was the exact reason why he was so... Well, he was downright mad, really. Going to the doctors was supposed to help Roger but all it did was make him worse than ever. This ‘diagnosis’ was clearly not helping Roger get over the issue, the poor man looked traumatised. He was clearly taking the diagnosis to heart, and the doctor’s words about being a ‘danger to society'. Why would she say such a thing? Sure, Roger had hurt them, his stomach ached dully at the thought, but it wasn’t malicious! He hadn’t tried to hurt them, he’d never dream of it. He wouldn’t... The only reason he did it was because he was so upset, could you blame him for freaking out when he’d almost died? He wasn’t a danger. Brian thought it was a pretty damn shitty thing to say, especially to someone who already hated themselves enough to try to kill himself. How exactly was making him feel even worse going to help him get better?

Maybe he was being unreasonable. Maybe. He didn’t think so, though, because at the end of the day this was about Roger and the undeniable truth was that Roger had been better walking in those doors than coming out. He tried to remind himself that the doctor was just doing her job. He’d sat and watched her check symptoms and ask questions as she tried to work out what was wrong. It was her job to give them a diagnosis. And maybe it did look a bit bad when all of them came in with big bruised and black eyes from when Roger had struggled, he knew what it looked like. It wasn’t her fault for... Jumping to conclusions. Because that was what it was, a shoddy conclusion. Roger wasn’t a danger and Brian wouldn’t let anyone say it. But still, he should be so mad, she was clearly trying to help and just doing her job and yet his blood boiled. It was just... He wasn’t mad at her. He couldn’t even convince himself that it was her he was mad at. It was himself, he was fucking livid, really.

He had pressured Roger to go to the doctors when he clearly didn’t want to, he was the one who’d answered the questions wrong to make the doctor think the worst, he was the one who’d let his lifelong best friend get so bad that he’d commit suicide without noticing. How had it come to this? Everything had been going so well. Brian let out a shuddered breath, digging his nails into the skin of his palms to try and ground himself. He probably deserved to fester in painful thoughts of self blame but he couldn’t afford to be selfish or have a breakdown when they all needed to focus their utmost attention on Roger. He almost jumped when he felt something squeeze his hand. He looked down to find John’s hand in his own, the other man looking up at him as if to ask ‘are you alright’. Brian smiled softly, how Deacy was always so observant and considerate he would never know. He tried to give the man a reassuring smile, though he was sure it came out more like a grimace.

“Should we head back, then? I think we could probably convince a taxi to drive us back over the fields if—” Brian began, getting his mind back to the tasks on hand.  
“Bri,” Roger cut him off, voice quiet betraying how shaken he was, “We don’t have to go back, I’m fine. You said earlier we needed to shop.”  
“Yeah. Yeah, I did. But it’s not imp—”  
Roger shook his head, fixing Brian with a serious gaze “I’m fine, Bri. Really. I can handle a bloody supermarket or whatever.”  
Brian frowned, not liking it. Although Roger insisted otherwise, one look at him would tell anyone that he was struggling. He was more pale than he’d thought humanly possibly, his eyes were bloodshot and had bags so large they bruised, his face clearly read sadness and despair and his whole body swayed and shook from exhaustion.

“I’ll wait outside with him.” Freddie interjected “You two can go get some quick shopping while Roger and I wait, I think there’s a bench back there by those pansies. We do need shopping, and I think it’d do some good to rest a little before heading off, don’t you?”  
Brian looked at him as he thought. Yeah, that sounded alright. Still, he had the strong instinct to scoop Roger up and take him some place warm and safe where no one could hurt him.  
“I’m sure it’ll be alright, Brian. Freddie’s right, it’d be good to have a break to relax. Everything will be fine.” John said with a small, reassuring smile “Besides, we need more food after... Whatever the hell you and Freddie did to that kitchen.”  
Brian blushed at the reminder, though he and Freddie had never told the other two what exactly had happened and he intended to keep it that way. That felt like a world ago now.  
“Oh, alright.” He conceded “I see no harm in it. I’ll see you two later, but just come straight and get us if you need to, okay?”  
Roger rolled his eyes with a small, tired smile “Yes, mother.”

Brian chuckled softly as he waved goodbye to Freddie and Roger, who huddled together as they walked to the bench. Brian hummed in thought, he did wonder about those two. Crippling mental health drama aside, was there something going on? Every moment he thought there was they’d do something that made him think he was over reading. He was probably over reading, actually. The four of them shared such an close and open relationship that it seemed unfathomable to most other men. Just because they were close, didn’t mean that there was anything going on. Still, the thought of his two friends being together made him smile. They were both such wonderful people and cared very deeply about each other, he couldn’t help but wish that all his friends ended up in a relationship like that.  
“I think it was around this way, Bri.” John’s voice dragged him out of his thoughts.  
He blinked “Huh?”  
John looked at him with an amused smile “The shop. It’s this way, you missed the turn.”  
Brian looked back to where John gestured. So he had. The turn for the shops was a few strides behind him, he’d been blindly walking in a straight line, lost in thoughts.  
“Thanks.” He said sheepishly as he backtracked. The pair continued to walk to the shops, both men’s thoughts miles away.  
*******  
“Hey.” Freddie said softly with a comforting smile, as he and Roger sat next to each other on a bench. He got no reply from the other man, though he curled closer, burying his face in the crook of Freddie’s neck. Freddie smiled softly, running a hand through his friend’s hair, pulling him closer with his other arm. Roger didn’t say anything, preferring to maintain his silence, he’d only broken it to speak to Brian earlier, though he did make a whimpering sound so soft that Freddie wouldn’t have heard it had it not been for their close proximity.  
“My love... How are you feeling?” He asked gently. He didn’t want to talk about the doctors, didn’t want to open anymore wounds.  
“M'kay.” Roger’s soft voice carried, muffled by Freddie’s shirt.  
Freddie smiled, continuing to stroke a hand through his hair. Holding Roger close like this made him feel better too. He knew that everything was spiralling out of control, he wasn’t sure that there was anything he could do to stop it, to save Roger. But holding him so close, feeling the soft rise and fall of Roger’s breathing in his embrace, he felt as if he could protect him.

“That’s good, my dear. It’ll get even better, just hold on. When Brian and John get back, you can take some of that anxiety medication. It’s supposed to help with the pain and anxiety and sadness. I know it’s no miracle cure but it’ll help. Tell us how it works, we can tell the doctor later so she can see if the dosage is right and if this medication is best.”  
Roger shifted in his arms, so that his eyes were peeking up from where he’d hidden. Freddie smiled down at him, he looked so cute like that, big blue eyes peeping up at him.  
“Do you really think the medication will help me?” Roger said in a hopeful voice.  
Freddie hummed in consideration before nodding “I really do. It’s a proper medical prescription, and they wouldn’t use it if it didn’t work.” He reasoned.  
Roger nodded, burying his head down again “I... Freddie, please help me.” He said in the smallest, most lost voice that Freddie had ever heard. Freddie’s heart instantly broke.  
“Oh, my darling. My poor, poor love what’ve they done to you? It’ll be okay, of course I’ll help you. Yes, my love, I will help you. Just relax, just hold on, I’ll make it all better. I don’t know how but I will, I promise.” He murmured softly, peppering soft kisses over Roger’s head

Roger’s arms squeezed tighter around his waist “ ‘m sorry. For all of this. Didn’t mean to drag you guys down with me.”  
Freddie shook his head, curling a strand of hair around his finger “You’re not dragging us down, my angel, I promise. Don’t think such things, and do not apologise. This isn’t your fault, none of it is. Okay?”  
Roger didn’t respond.  
Freddie sighed and pressed another soft kiss against Roger’s head “I love you, Roger.”  
“Love you too.” The words were almost too quiet for Freddie to hear but he did. He smiled sadly, holding Roger close and rocking him gently back and forth as they rested and waited.  
*******  
John and Brian went silently through the store, grabbing essentials that they now lacked from the kitchen. They were both still shaken by the events with Roger. It seemed strange to do something so... Normal, domestic, when it felt like their world was shattering. How could the earth spin on when they’d almost lost a friend?  
“Why are you buying so many ready prepared meals?” John asked with a confused smile.  
Brian flushed “Oh... You know, who wants to spend time cooking when we could be working on our music? Besides, the equipment is old. I feel like it’s safest to just her using it. This place is made of wood, wouldn’t want to set a fire in it!” he laughed nervously.  
John shrugged acceptingly and continued to walk through the isles. It wasn’t a chain store, some little thing probably owned by the person behind the counter watching them intently. On instinct, the pair moved to behind a stand that obscured them from vision.

“Do you think Roger is schizophrenic?” John asked, breaking the silence.  
Brian almost choked on his own spit “Are we talking about this, then?”  
“Yes. We should. What do you think?”  
Brian sighed and ran a hand through his hair “Um... No. No I don’t, it seems too sudden.”  
John nodded, putting a block of butter into their basket, “Yeah, I thought so too. It just feels weird, doesn’t it? But... Surely we’d naturally feel like it was weird, like it couldn’t true?”  
Brian shrugged “Maybe. But I feel like we’d know, you know? Like... It’d strike dread into our hearts but none more so than because we know it to be true, but we’re denying it. This... This was a complete surprise.”  
“Yes, that’s definitely true.” John nodded “But... Haven’t you noticed him looking at empty space every now and then? And in the doctor’s office, he was talking to something, or himself.”

“He was freaking out! And I don’t blame him, either, we were all on his case. And anyway, people look into the distance. It’s a thing. There are loads of reasons he could be doing it, lost in thought, trying to calm down, feeling too anxious to look directly at people. I just...” Brian sighed “It doesn’t feel right treating him like he’s crazy or something. I feel like it’ll only do more damage than good, he looks so... Demoralised. Like we sucked the will to fight out of him.” Brian had to stop for a moment, his own breathing shallow and teetering dangerously on panic. He leant stiffly against the wall, panting softly. “I... Fuck. John, what have we done? We made it worse. He was already suicidal and I made it worse!”  
John cursed under his breath in alarm “Bri? Brian, you need to breath. That’s nonsense, Bri, you didn’t make it worse! We had to take him to the doctors, we had to! And look, now we have medication to help him. It’ll make him better, just you see.” John soothed in a soft voice.  
Brian shook his head, hand shakily clasped over his mouth “H-He was out the window. Not standing next to it, not sitting on the ledge. He was completely out, hanging out above the open space the only thing that was keeping him from death was Freddie’s hold. He was s-slipping, John!”

John felt as if he’d been punched, the horrible events of the night replaying like a movie. In Brian’s eyes he could see that he could see it too, it was sketched so vividly in the horror in the depths of his eyes. John remembered again how he’d been the last to arrive, how if it had been up to him to save Roger then the man who was such a dear and treasured friend would be dead.  
“He was screaming so loud, so raw! Freddie was too, screaming for help. He was so, so scared!” Brian recounted in a tearful, desperate voice “Th-they... I t-tried to help. I held him too, but he was struggling so much! I thought.... I-I th-thought for sure that he’d fall, that our efforts were in vain. I thought that it was the last time I’d see him alive.”  
John felt silent tears spill down his cheeks. He steeled himself, laying a gentle hand on Brian’s shoulder “Brian I know it’s hard, I know that that was... Fuck, that was the most traumatising thing to happen in my entire life. But you need to forget about it right now. And for goodness sake please breath! Come on, with me. Breath in and out as I do, okay?”

For a few moments they were silent, just breathing. John looked up at Brian, his face was flushed red and had faint tear tracks, his mouth hung slightly open as if he was struggling to breath. It was incredibly disconcerting to see Brian like this, he was usually their rock, their grounding force. Power and kindness and composition.  
“Better?” John asked gently after a moment.  
Brian nodded hesitantly before going stiff and rapidly shaking his head, making a horribly raw gagging sound as his hand flew to his mouth again.  
“Shit!” John cursed as Brian ran off to the back of the shop where there was a bathroom sign. John quickly followed, hearing loud, painful gagging and retching in the quiet of the room. He dropped own behind Brian’s hunched form, rubbing his back soothingly.  
“It’s alright.” He murmured softly “Just let it out, Bri, you’ll feel better. Breath through it.”

John held Brian’s hair back and out of the way, after a while of dry heaving Brian grew exhausted. John wrapped his arms around him then to help keep him up, Brian’s body insisting on continued gagging even though nothing was left to come up but foul bile. Finally, the convulsions stopped and Brian went limp in his hold. John’s heart pounded so hard that he could hear it loud and clear. It was terrifying to see Brian in such a state, especially when it was just him there to help. It was somehow even worse to have him throwing up from anxiety or stress, at least with an illness he could say that it’d just go away and get better. With this it probably mattered a great deal what he said and did right now to stop Brian from making himself sick again.  
“H-He can’t die.” Brian said in a small, tearful voice.  
John nodded, resting his chin on Brian’s shoulder “I know. He won’t, Bri. We won’t let him.” He pressed a soft kiss on Brian’s temple “You mustn’t worry and over think these things, Brian, you always do that and it always makes you ill. I know that those memories are... Horrible. Just... Take them as motivation to stop it rather than confirmation that there’s nothing left to be done. We are going to save Roger. There’s no question about that. But don’t lose yourself while we’re doing it. We look out for each other, that’s how all this works. Like hell we’re going to let you hurt.”

Brian let out a soft breath laugh, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm “Ah bloody hell.” He pinched the bridge of his nose “Why do I always overreact?”  
John looked at him incredulously “Brian, you didn’t just overreact you got so anxious you threw up! You literally worried yourself sick. That’s not an overreaction, that’s a big issue.” He argued “Bri... If you need to you can always go to the doctors too. You don’t need to be suicidal to need help.”  
Brian shook his head, moving away from the toilet to sit on the floor “What, so she can tell me I’m schizophrenic? A danger to society? Like hell.”  
John frowned “Brian, she was just doing her job.”  
Brian sighed, rubbing his hands over his face “I know, I know. I’m just... Mad? Scared? Mad at myself, mostly. Scared that we’ll lose him.”  
John nodded, sitting beside him “I know, Bri, me too. Bloody terrified. Don’t be mad at yourself, Brian, you really haven’t done anything?”  
Brian shrugged.  
John sighed, resting his head against Brian’s shoulder “It’ll get better. It has to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What'd ya think? Please tell me in the comments, I absolutely love hearing from you! <3 Did you like this little kinda Brian centric break, with more John and Brian? Or do you prefer the classic Freddie and Roger chapters?


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg it's me!? Yeah, here's a new chapter. Also, in case you didn't know I've started two new fics so go check those out! Hope you like this :3

“We really didn’t have to do this, you guys. I’m perfectly capable of walking.” Roger said incredulously. Roger looked out as the farmland and fields passed bumpily from the tractor window. Well, it wasn’t a window as much as it was a gap. The surprise and amusement of their situation temporarily distracted Roger, even eliciting a small smile.  
“Nonsense, darling, you were clearly not fit to walk all this way. You should preserve yourself, dearest, not force yourself to do things just because you’re physically capable.” Freddie said in a gentle but no nonsense voice, from where he was squeezed between Roger and John.  
“Yeah, Freddie’s right.” Brian called from the front, where he was sitting next to the tractor driver “You literally passed out in the middle of the road, Rog. We caught you only seconds before you hit the path. Besides, farmer White says he’s happy to help.” He miles gratefully at the man next to him.  
Roger rolled his eyes and slumped back in his crowded chair, though a small smile turned up the corners of his lips, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” It was nice, he supposed, to rest his legs a little. The scenery rhythmically passing by was kind of relaxing. He let out a soft sigh, laying his head on Freddie’s shoulder, linking his arms in John’s and Freddie’s. Freddie shifted a little beside him to help Roger more comfortably lean on him, and started to stroke a gentle hand through his hair.

The ride passed far quicker than their earlier walk, though it was still quite time consuming considering how slowly the tractor went. Still, Roger was slightly grateful for it. He didn’t think he could handle getting back too soon. Would his friends want to talk? Would they sit in awkward silence leaving him to contemplate everything that had come to pass? He didn’t know which he dreaded more. The tractor ride was good for him, he decided. It wasn’t too demanding, he could himself absolutely exhausted already. The loud rhythm of the old tractor wheels turning and the engine humming was just distracting enough for him not to start to over think things. All his friends were right there with him, their warm, oh so familiar presences was something he would give up for the world. Despite himself, he started to fall asleep on Freddie’s shoulder. He barely noticed when the tractor came to a stop.  
“Is he sleeping?”  
“Yes, darling. I’m not surprised, he didn’t get much good rest last night and today has already been so draining for him.”  
“Aw, he’s cute when he’s asleep.”  
“He’s cute all the time, he’s Roger.”  
“Good point.”

Roger grumbled softly in his sleep, curling up against his warm head support, wrapping his arms firmly around the soft warm thing there and letting out a small whimper.  
“Awwww!” a soft chorus of voices cooed.  
“Guys, we need to move him. We’ve already imposed enough.”  
“Move him? Bri, look at him! He’s an adorable lil' baby.”  
“Come on, Mr Giant, and help me pick him up. Put those massive arms of yours to work, dear.”  
“Well, you know what they say about men with massive arms!”  
“Deacy, darling, that’s massive feet. But I can confirm Brian has both.”  
“Don’t you mean all three?”  
“If you two are quite done with discussing my dick size, can you help me by opening the door a bit more so I can lift him out.”  
“Yeah, sure. Sorry.”

Roger screwed his face up, grip tightening on the warm thing when something grabbed Jim around his waist and started pulling him away from the comfortable warmth. He whined in protest, pouting. The grip on his waist froze.  
“Shit. Guys, I can’t move him without waking him, he’s holding onto Freddie too tightly.”  
“Maybe if we shift him slightly then I can hold him against my front while he still holds my arm?”  
The grip returned along with more touches, rudely jostling him while he tried to sleep. Didn’t they know it was rude to wake people when they were comfortable? They wouldn’t like it very much if he did the same to them. He buried his face in the warmth, using both hands to hold on now and giving off a low whimper of displeasure.  
“Damn it, he’s strong and cute. An unmoveable force.”

Roger’s face scrunched up when something gently tapped his cheek. It was followed by a pleasant sensation of something running through his hair and a feather soft feeling on his forehead like a kiss.  
“Roger, my love, it’s Freddie.” He said in a hushed voice.  
Roger’s grip tightened even more, emotions bursting in his chest “Freddie?”  
“Yes, that’s right, my dear.” Came the gentle reply.  
Roger felt his bottom lip quiver and his eyes sting, he was too sleepy to even feel embarrassed over it. “Please don’t leave!” he whimpered desperately “Need you. P-Please don’t go away.” He curled into the gentle touch of someone, presumably Freddie, massaging his shoulders.  
“Oh, love. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m right here. See?” there came a comforting squeeze of a hug. “See, my dear? I’m right here, there’s no need for tears. Now, I need you to wake up just for a moment, then you can go right back to sleep. We just need to get out of this nice man’s tractor. So, I need you to wake up and get up so—”  
“No!” Roger shook his head forcefully, his grip tightening again “No don’t leave, don’t leave! P-Please!” he started sobbing pitifully against Freddie’s shoulder.

Freddie held him close, stroking his back and his hair, pressing soft, loving kisses over his face.  
“Hush, shhhh it’s okay. It’s okay, Roger. I’m right here, no need for tears. We can get up together alright? I’ll hold your hand and not let go the whole way inside.”  
Roger sniffled, tears flowing freely from the moment he started to get scared of Freddie leaving his side, but nodded, gripping Freddie’s hand so tightly the man couldn’t eave of he tried. Freddie smiled encouragingly, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles.  
“That’s it, my love. Now let’s go inside. It’s far warmer and more comfortable, I’m sure it’d be a lot more comfortable to sleep in a nice comfy bed, hm?” Freddie reasoned in a soft voice.  
“Bed.” Roger echoed in agreement, voice husky and slurred with sleep.  
“I’m getting up now.” Freddie stated so that Roger wouldn’t startle “I’m not leaving you, my love. You just stand up with me, yes? And we’ll go to bed. Nice and warm and comfy. Does that sound nice my darling?”

Roger nodded, clinging tightly onto his arm. Freddie stood slowly, waiting for Roger to echo the action before moving further away. Roger stood, his feet shaky underneath his feet, unwilling to let to of Freddie for even a second. Freddie sighed, chuckling fondly as he held him close once they we’re fully standing, having climbed out.  
“There you are. You did brilliantly, love. Now let’s go inside, just stay awake for a little longer and you can sleep.” Freddie insisted.  
He looked at the man before him and sighed. Roger’s eyed were lidded, his face slack, his whole body swaying on his feet. He was clearly exhausted.  
“Why don’t you let Brian carry you in, my dear? Then you won’t have to—”  
“No! No! Don’t leave me Freddie! Please don’t leave, please don’t leave. C-Can't lose you…” Roger cut him off, arms around him like a vice as he sobbed messily against his shoulder.  
Freddie was taken by surprise by the sudden outburst, stumbling back a few paces. He looked down at the hysterical form in his arms, feeling his heart break.  
“Hush, my angel. Hey… Shhshhhshh it’s okay, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Freddie murmured softly to sooth the man but he was inconsolable. With a small sigh and a grunt of exertion, Freddie lifted him up into his arms to carry inside.

Freddie didn’t stop till he reached his own bedroom, laying Roger down and tucking him under the billowing sheets. Roger hadn’t calmed down but his cries had faded to a heart wrenching whimper, too exhausted to even cry.  
He sighed and kissed his forehead “Sleep, my love. You’ll feel better when you wake.” Sleep would do him good, even if it was Stoll the afternoon. Roger needed the extra rest.  
Roger shook his head, eyes wide and scared “D-Don’t go ‘way.” He pleaded in a small voice, hands gripping weakly at Freddie’s shirt.  
Freddie smiled at him softly, though his heart ached to see him in such a state “I won’t leave, love. I won’t go away.” He promised. He kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed beside Roger, arms wrapped around him firmly “There,” he said with a smile “I’m not going anywhere.”  
Roger smiled up at him, the expression so innocent and full of pure joy. Somehow that hurt to see even more. Freddie smiled back, running a gentle hand through his hair till he felt the body in his arms grow still, no movement but the slow rise and fall of his chest.  
*******  
John looked up as he watched Freddie and Roger disappear up the staircase, Brian locking the door behind them all.  
John turned to him “Should we follow them or let them have a little peace?”  
Brian hummed in thought, putting the keys on the side cabinet “I’d say let’s leave them for a little so Roger can fall asleep. But then we should go up and give Freddie some company although… he looks like he could use some sleep too. We can keep watch for him while he sleeps.”  
John felt a rush of coldness at the words, a reminder of their situation “Y-Yeah… Keep watch…” Freddie would never forgive himself if he fell asleep and Roger hurt himself, or worse. John grimaced, physically shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts “He won’t like the idea of sleeping. You know Freddie.”  
Brian nodded “True. He needs it, though, he couldn’t have slept for more than half an hour collectively last night.”  
“Maybe we can convince him by saying if he sleeps now he can look after Roger better during the night? Or incase he wakes up unwell?” John reasoned.  
Brian nodded in agreement “Yeah, that should work. As long as we promise to keep an eye put while he’s sleeping.”

There was silence for a moment, both men stuck in their own thoughts. John’s eyes flicked over to the man before him. Brian looked better than earlier but he still looked awful, like the smallest trigger could cause him to break down.  
“Are you alright, Bri?” he pressed “There’s a medicine kit, I think I saw some aspirin if you need any.”  
Brian shook his head, a small, exhausted smile twisting at his lips “I’m fine, John, really. Don’t worry about it, yeah?”  
John raised an eyebrow, not believing that for a second “Are you sure? Because earlier you—”  
Brian waved him off flippantly “I’m perfectly fine.”  
“Brian, you’re not fine if —”  
“I said I’m fine!” he snapped, causing John to recoil, wide eyed.  
Brian cursed under his breath, running his hands over his face and letting out a withered sigh. He turned to look at John apologetically, face weary, eyes tired.

“I’m sorry for snapping.” He said in a small voice.  
John gave him a small smile, squeezing his shoulder “Hey, don’t worry about it. I understand.”  
Brian shook his head, going stiff and wringing his hands in the way he did when that beautiful brain of his wouldn’t shut up, John smiled sympathetically.  
“It’s not okay. It’s not…” he let out a gushed breath “I just don’t want to be not okay right now. I don’t… I don’t want to be a burden, I can’t afford to be. We need to be at our best, on our guard. We need to look after Roger.”  
John shook his head with a frown “Of course we do but, Brian, you need to stop thinking like that. You’ll hurt yourself. If you want to look after Roger the best way is to look after yourself first, being honest with yourself when something is wrong or when you need to take a break. Pushing down a problem doesn’t mean it’s not there and it’ll only get worse and worse the longer you ignore it. You need to look after yourself because if you don’t and you become ill then you won’t be able to help anyone. Alright?”  
Brian nodded hesitantly “Yeah…”

“So, I’m going to ask you again, are you alright?” John repeated, looking at him sternly.  
“Yes.”  
“Try again.” John fixed him with a look that made Brian squirm before sighing and rolling his eyes.  
“Alright!” Brian conceded “I’m not okay. You happy?”  
“I’ve been better.”  
Brian kicked his feet moodily, causing John to sigh and shake his head fondly. His friend might be a giant but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a complete man child.  
“Is there anything I can do to help you?” John asked in a gentle voice.  
Brian shot him a small smile “Just keep being your annoyingly persistent self. Oh, and can you go keep an eye on those two? I want to go brush my teeth to get the taste of sick out of my mouth.”  
John nodded, watching as Brian disappeared up the stairs. He sighed, he did worry about him. He worried about all his friends, really, they were such a dysfunctional bunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did ya like it? Tell me what you think in the comments!


	25. Chapter 25

Roger walked down a street, hardly noticing the people who passed by. It wasn’t particularly late but it was already dark, they’d been plunged into the grim period where autumn met winter at the very end of November. Usually, it was an exciting time, Christmas so close it was tangible, but not this year. Not any year hereafter. He curled his coat righter around him, though he barely felt the cold. He supposed from his red skin and the misty path every breath left that he must be cold, in theory. He didn’t feel it. But there was a most bitter chill inside him, the feeling that all was lost and nothing could ever be well again. He didn’t know what to do, there was nothing to do—nothing could make it right again. He curled his coat around him tighter and walked on. It was raining.

Just a little errand, just a stupid little errand, he’d done them loads of time. When Dominique said the milk had run out he’d jumped on it. Anything to get out, anything to get away. Away from what, he didn’t know, all he knew was that he had to keep moving, he had to keep going! If he stopped for a second he’d... He didn’t know that either, there was a lot of things he didn’t know anymore. He just felt so... Helpless. What was the point in trying to make sense of it all anyway? He didn’t think he’d like what he found. Dominique told him not to go, told him she hadn’t meant for him to go to the shops when she said they were out of milk, she was just making an observation. She begged him not to go, in fact, pleaded with him to see reason. He wasn’t well, my love, sit down. He was in no shape to be out of bed let alone go out running errands. The ‘without supervision’ was never said, only implied.

Why would he need supervision? He was a grown man, a capable, independent adult. Danger. A grown man who tried to drown himself in the bath, a bath stained red. Oh how Dominique had cried and screamed. Danger, danger to himself. A grown man who could punch right through a wall, make his precious kiddies scream. Danger, danger, danger to society. He let out a shuddered breath, the air fogging in a thick cloud. Fuck, he wanted a fag. Milk. Just milk, he could do it. He was trying... He was trying to be normal. Buying milk was normal. Just get on, just get on with life or it’ll leave you behind. All he needed to concentrate on was the milk, then everything would be okay. He swayed and staggered as he fought desperately to get to the store. People gave him a wide berth. He scowled to himself, he wasn’t dangerous. With his twitching fingers, muttering and unshaven face he looked dangerous. Just need to get milk.

He practically fell through the door, the security man didn’t seem to appreciate it, giving him a suspicious look, eyes not leaving him. He tried to ignore it. Roger stumbled to the milk section, leaning against the display and panting. He hadn’t been up and active this long since before Freddie... In a little while. Milk, he needed to get milk. He lifted shaky hands, feeling the cool cartons and bottles beneath his fingers. The other shoppers looked at him like he was crazy, didn’t they see he just needed to buy some milk? They’d run out. Dominique said so. Dominique said stay home, you’re not well. He was well, and he had milk too. Almost. He just needed to choose. Shit, he didn’t now he’d have to chose. He stared at the milk section tearfully, feeling as if his world was over. He didn’t know which one was the right one! How was he... How could he... How could he tell? How could he chose? He let out a stifled sob.

“Excuse me, sir, are you alright?”  
Roger spun on his heel, looking at the young woman with bloodshot, tearful eyes. She was young, mustn’t even be out of school. She was looking at him expectantly. Had she said something? Yes. Yes, she had said something. What had she said? Didn’t he know he needed to buy some milk? No thinking, no thinking, he mustn’t think just shop. Just be normal, everything was still normal.  
“I can’t...” he said tearfully, a hand covering his mouth as he looked at the milk bottle selection “I need milk!” he exclaimed, hot tears escaping his eyes.  
She nodded patiently “Alright. There is milk, look!” she pointed to the milk bottles “It’s e milk section.”  
He shook his head hard, burying his face in his hands “Too many... I-I don’t know...” he sobbed loudly.

“Excuse me, miss, is there a problem here? Is this man bothering you?” the security man walked over, eying Roger suspiciously.  
The girl shook her head “No problem, sir! I’m just helping him find something, he’s shopping for something very important.” She smiled politely at the security man until he left before turning back to Roger “I find this one to be the best.” She said in a soft voice, picking a milk bottle off the shelf and handing it to Roger carefully.  
Roger eyed the bottle, letting out a shuddered breath. That was it, he had the milk. He had what he’d come for. Now what? Now he paid. Yes... Yes, he could do that. More distractions, more play pretend that everything was alright. As long as he kept doing things he’d be alright.  
“Yes... Yes, milk. Got it. Got milk. I need...” he blew a breath out hard through his mouth “Pay, I-I need to pay.”  
The girl nodded “Yes, you do that.”

He kept nodding and murmuring to himself, gripping the milk bottle in his hand hard. He was okay, he’d almost made it. He’d gone to the store, gotten milk, now he was going to pay and go home. See? That wasn’t so bad. He could keep living, he could keep calm and carry on even though Freddie was... Even though Dominique said he was unwell, needed help. He could keep calm and carry on. He walked to pay, there was a line. Why were there always lines? Two seconds into waiting and he was sure that it’d be the death of him. He couldn’t stay still, he couldn’t stop he had to keep going, keep running from the reality that Freddie was... Also waiting for him to buy milk! Everyone was waiting, he needed to get home. Just wait in line like a good boy.

His eyes started to wander, straying over the isles. Baby food, Christmas globes, chewing gum, newspapers... Freddie Mercury dead. AIDS strikes again. The death of a monarch: Queen lead singer dead. Announced illness, dead in days. Breaking news: rock star Freddie Mercury dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Roger cried out, dropping the milk and gripping his hair roughly. His legs failed to work, his lungs failed to work, why was everything not working? His eyes were now failing him too, why was the room tilting...? He hit the floor. Are you okay? Sir, are you alright? No he wasn’t alright! Freddie was dead! It was all he could see, the headlines. Dead, dead, dead, dead.  
.  
.  
.  
Roger gasped, jolting awake in bed, the springs of the old mattress bouncing a few times before he settled. He breathed hard, eyes manic as they searched wildly around the room, though he didn’t know what he was searching for. For a moment he could have sworn he saw a light and beard a beeping. He shook his head, trying to get his mind to wake up properly. He closed his eyes, burying his face in his hands. It was just a dream, it was just a dream. He let out a humourless laugh, if only he could say that. But it wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t a nightmare. It was a memory. He had insisted he went to the shops, he’d been trying so hard to get some sense of normalcy back but... Well, two hours later police and ambulance officers escorted him home. Carried more like. Dominique had been right. He had been banned from the shop. Didn’t even get the milk. But what did it matter? Freddie was dead. Nothing... Nothing would ever mean anything again.

It was so strange, to have someone disappear. He’d known it was coming, he’d been sick for years. They’d all seen him wither away, they’d all known, with a heavy heart, it was close. But you can never prepare yourself, you can never wrap your mind around it. How can someone just disappear? His body was there, he’d seen it even. But Freddie wasn’t. He had been gone in an instant, left without a trace. Why? It was so strange to think that Freddie had stopped, experienced his last few seconds. Had he known, in those moments, that that was the end? The human life, so long, so fragile. Everyone sees forever before them. He knew he was dying but did he know that was it? One second, two second, the third second the world continued but without it’s brightest light, without Freddie Mercury. How was it like to know that the next moment was something you’d ever experience? He must have felt so alone.

Whenever Roger wanted to see Freddie he could always call, drop by, just come and say hello. It was all gone and he just couldn’t wrap his head around it. It’d been days until he’d truly realised that Freddie was gone, he was gone for good and Roger could never ever see him again. Had he had dreams? A plan? A way he’d envisioned his life going? He knew he was dying but surely there must have been some plan. Blink. Look at the door. Roll onto the side. Some little plan his mind had intended to do but never had the time. Where had that gone? That mind doing things, thinking things, planning things. Oh that brilliant mind. All gone. But there... There was Freddie, lying beside him. So he was hurting over nothing, worrying over nothing. Freddie was alive! Right there, right there. Roger let out a shuddered breath and buried his face against Freddie’s chest, which rose and fell with the slow, deep breathing of sleep.  
*******  
Brian couldn’t sleep. Well, that was a good thing, he was on watch. It hadn’t been planned but he was the only one awake so he was on watch. Freddie and Roger’s breaths mingled in a soothing pattern from the bed, John had fallen asleep sitting leant up against the wall, his head hung back against the white plaster, knees pulled up to his chest. It was... Peaceful, he supposed. He snorted, he hated peaceful. Where most people found solace in silence and quiet, Brian thrived when he was doing something. He was always going something, fiddling, writing, thinking through plans, reading, talking, strumming his guitar. Always something. He couldn’t stand silence and solitude! His brain... Sometime he hated it. It would never shut up, never quieten, never give him a break. That’s why he was fiddling with his fingers, concentrating very hard on the motion and begging his brain to lay off, he couldn’t take any more abuse. It was even quiet outside, it was too late for songbirds to sing and too early for the owls to roam. It was the most boring time, lacking of the raging beauty of sunset and shielded from the endless world of the stars. He hated dusk. There was a rustling on the bed, a pained gasp and a loud squeaking of bed springs. Brian’s eyes shot over immediately, ready to face any danger that might have befallen his beloved friends. He calmed down when there didn’t seem to be anything the matter. Still, he watched cautiously as Roger sat up in the bed panting before curling against Freddie with a whimper. He bit his lip. Did Roger want help? Or did he want to be left alone? Was he even awake?

“Roger?” he called in a hushed tone, not wanting to wake him if he wasn’t already.  
Roger stiffened before sitting up slowly, curled in on himself like a kitten in the cold.   
Brian smiled gently, eyes full of affection “Hey.” He murmured in a hushed whisper.  
Roger gave him a small, timid smile “Hey.” He said, voice small and husky from sleep. He blinked blearily, looking around rather disorientated “Where...? What...?” he cleared his throat, rubbing his eyes “Why is it nighttime? I thought it was still the afternoon...”  
Brian stood and walked over, sitting on the edge of the bed. He didn’t touch, he didn’t want to freak Roger out. “You fell asleep, Rog. I don’t blame you. Look, even those two lugs are out like a light.” He said with a chuckle, gesturing to Freddie and John. The small giggle he elicited was gold dust.

“Why—” it was cut off by a yawn “Why didn’t you wake me?”  
Brian shrugged, rubbing his arms “You needed the rest. If your body is telling you you need to sleep then you should.”  
“Unless you’re concussed.”  
Brian let out a surprised huff of a laugh “Um... Yeah. Yeah, unless you’re concussed.”  
“Or have hypothermia.”  
He dipped his head to conceded “That too.”  
“Or if you’re underwater.”  
Brian chuckled, rolling his eyes and raising his hands in surrender “Okay, okay. I think we can rule out all of those situations for you right now.”  
A strange look passed over Roger’s face. Brian frowned in confusion, did he think he was in one of those situations? No, it must be something else.

They were silent for a moment, Brian eying Roger carefully, using all the self restraint he had not to pull him into a tight hug.  
“Brian...” Roger said after a moment, voice heartbreakingly tearful.  
Brian’s eyes snapped to the other man’s, heart pounding “Oh honey what’s wrong? Hm? Shhshhhshhh it’s okay.” He pulled Roger into a firm hug, holding him close like he could protect him from the world.  
“I feel sick.”  
Brian’s heart broke at those three words. So simple but they conveyed so much, the tone of Roger’s voice, to, ripped his heart apart. It shook with raw emotion and uncertainty, shyness at admitting to something like that but desperation there so strong that he simply had to say it, hurting too much to keep silent.  
“I know, Rog, I know. I’m here. I’m here for you, always.” He said, whisper turning tearful. What could he say? What could he do? He was so helpless, worthless, useless. There was nothing he could do.

“Please help me. Please, please help me!” Roger’s face crumbled, his pillars and layers and walls he used to try so very hard to stay strong collapsed beneath him, letting him fall.  
Brian let out a bitter sob before he could bite it back “I will help you! I will help you, I promise. Sweetheart, I promise. I’ll help you, I’ll help you.”  
He hated himself. He was lying and he realised himself for it, his self respect falling miles even as the syllables left his mouth. Because he was lying, he couldn’t help. He wouldn’t help. He was just sitting there and saying ‘I know’ and ‘I’ll make it better' and ‘I’ll help you' but every word was a lie. Roger was vulnerable and hurting, he turned to him for help and he lied in his face. He was useless, he was worthless, he couldn’t help! He tried to help, he forced Roger to see a doctor and that made it so much worse. Now he was lying. Well, what was he supposed to do? Say it wasn’t okay? Say that he couldn’t help? No. What he was supposed to do was be able to help but he wasn’t and so he lied and despised himself for it.

“Shh, hey. Hey, it’s okay. I know it hurts, I know it’s too much to bear. I’m here for you, Rog, always here.” He kissed Roger’s forehead, stroking a hand through his hair. He held him like that for a long time, perhaps even hours. It was fully dark but there were still no stars, only clouds and silhouettes. Roger’s ad gone still, the crying and shaking stopped. Brian thought he was asleep so when he felt him shift and looked down to see big blue eyes staring right back he was surprised.  
He smiled softly, kissing Roger’s head “Hi. Not sleepy anymore, huh?”  
Roger shook his head.  
Brian nodded along “Yeah, sure. You’ve been sleeping a while, it’s understandable not to be able to sleep. Me neither.”  
Roger nodded.

Brian looked down at him, sighing internally. Roger was so very precious, priceless to him. He’d do anything to keep him safe.  
“I tell you what, why don’t we go into the front? We both can’t sleep, maybe getting up om our feet and having a bite or two to eat could sleep come more easy. We can laze around on the sofa together, nothing too strenuous. Sound good?”  
Roger nodded, the smallest smile upturning his lips.  
Brian nodded too, smiling softly “Good.”


	26. Chapter 26

Freddie blinked around, finding himself outside that damn door again. His eyes fluttered closed as horror filled him.  
“No.” He shook his head, running a hand over his face “No, no, no. Fuck... Not again. Please!” He begged, tears burning his eyes already. He didn’t know who he was talking to, this was his own head after all. But... Damn it, he could not watch his best friend suffer like this again! Lie like this! Not after... Not after the other night because now he was really scared, now this was too damn real. Was this a premonition? A prophecy? Was he warned about Roger getting unwell, was it all his responsibility to save him?

He’d failed. Someone else might say that he hadn’t failed, Roger was still alive. He’d saved him! But no he hadn’t, not really. He might have stopped Roger from dying but he didn’t stop him from jumping. And so many people, far too many people, thought that as long as you saved the person’s life and stopped them from hurting the self then everything was good. No, everything was not ‘good'. The underlying issues were still there and that’s what really mattered, what truly mattered, but that is what everyone ignored because it was far more difficult to fix.

Sure enough, he found himself in the room, unable to avoid a desperately sobbing Roger.  
“Why?” he murmured, eyes stinging with tears, the room blurred before him. Did that make sense? He didn’t actually have eyes right now, this was a dream. “Why do I have to do this night and night again?” he felt so selfish saying it. Damn he hated himself for saying it. He took in a staggered breath “I don’t...” he broke off into a sob “I don’t know what to do, Roger. I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know what this is, what it means. I don’t know why you’re so sad. I don’t know how to make it all better. I just... I don’t damn know a single bloody thing but you’re relying on me to save you and I have to do something but I’m terrified that I’ll do the wrong thing and you’re going to die because of it and I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do!” he cried hysterically, heart wrenching in pain as he looking into the ghostly face of his best friend.

Dream Roger didn’t answer him. Of course he didn’t. Instead, he faded to a field, cold and dark and miserable. The perfect place for a death scene. In the light, on a summers day, it might have been pretty. Not to him, though. No, this scene would forever haunt his nightmares. Was this even a real place? He didn’t recognise it. He drifted closer and closer to the bridge, heard the water crashing like gunfire. Why was something so vital to life so deadly? If it hadn’t been so windy, maybe the water wouldn’t have been rough enough to kill him, maybe he’d have a chance. If it hadn’t rained so much, maybe the water wouldn’t be deep enough to drown him. If there weren’t so many rocks, maybe he’d not crack his skull and bleed out. So many ifs and yet Freddie found himself looking on the identity me scene, Roger’s pale form like a beautiful angel as he trembled against the wind, gripping the railing wood as he made the decision to end his life. Why did it have to be so realistic?

“No, Roger! No! Don’t you dare jump, don’t you do it! I need you. Can’t you see that? I need you and I love you and you are far too precious to the world and to me to throw your life away! Come down. For fucks sake get your arse down here right now!” He screamed hysterically at deaf ears, feeling a part of him die inside as he knew with sick certainty that no matter what he did, what he said, no matter how hard he tried Roger would still jump. He’d still witness his dear loved one die. That certainty, all the other times he’d seen it, didn’t make this any easier. His eyes widened in horror as he saw Roger’s white-knuckled grip slacken.  
“Roger no!” he screamed in raw terror “Noooo!” he yelled hysterically as his friend fell “Nooohooohooo! No! Noooo!” he screamed and screamed at the top of his lungs, eyes burning with tears so thick that he could scarcely see the water turn red. “Fuck!” he cried in horror, forced to look no matter how hard he tried to turn.

He cursed, the angry, distraught sounds carried away by the suffocating wind. He screwed his eyes shut, feeling pain throughout his whole being. He felt hysteria bubble within him, desperation and pain burning the breath from his chest.  
“What the fuck do you want from me!” he screamed at the sky “I can’t take this! I can’t fuckimg take this! Night after night after night, always always death. So much death, I...” a shuddered breath “I can’t do it.” He said in a dangerously quiet, calm voice “I can’t do it.” Aanic laugh bubbled from his throat. He drew in a sharp breath “You know what? I can’t bloody do this! What do you want? You want me to suffer, huh? You want me to dream of death Every. Single. Night? Well here’s some more death for you!” he yelled into the empty abyss of nothing, throwing himself off the bridge after Roger.  
*******  
Freddie woke with a gasp, sheets damp with sweat, tangled around his thrashing limbs. He panted hard. It was a dream, it was just a dream. He knew it was a dream. He’d dealt with that dream so many times before, he could do it once more. Just a silly dream. Roger was okay, Roger was alive, Roger was right next to... He paled, eyes widening with horror. Roger was gone. His panic hit him again with full force, squeezing the breath from his chest, making it impossible for him to breath anymore.  
“No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening, can’t let him die, can’t let him die! Fuck... Fuck...” he fell out of bed, trying to scramble to his feet. He knew very well that the dream wasn’t real but if Roger was gone then he was unsupervised and if he was unsupervised then he could have tried to... He had to find him!

The room spinning before him from his awful oxygen circulation, he tried to stumble towards the door. He heard a groan.  
“Freddie... What...?” John rubbed his eyes from the floor, blinking blearily up at him. Freddie didn’t take any note, trying to free his legs from the duvet that he’d somehow tangled himself in while also trying to ignore the fact that black dots were dancing on his vision.  
John paled, quickly scrambling to his feet himself “Freddie... Oh!” he quickly caught the older man as he toppled to the floor, having tripped on the duvet “Freddie, what’s wrong? I need you to calm down!”  
But the man didn’t seem to notice him. John cursed under his breath, pulling Freddie down onto the bed, not trusting the man’s wobbly legs. He stroked his back, trying to make Freddie realise that he was safe.

“What’s wrong?” he desperately begged to know, John’s eyed wide in fear at all the possible reasons his friend could be freaked out like this.  
“Gone!” Freddie gasped, his panic attack clutching him firmly.  
John shook his head, not understanding “What’s gone?”  
“Roger!” Freddie managed to get, voice raspy “G-Gone...”  
John paled but tried not to freak out, if he did then there was no one left to help Freddie “Okay. Okay, don’t panic. Roger is okay, alright? He’s perfectly fine, Freddie, do you understand me?” though he wasn’t sure, where was the poor blonde? He couldn’t let Freddie know that he was freaking out too, he’d ever get him to calm down that way.  
“He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s—”

“Freddie, Roger is perfectly fine. What did I just say?”  
“R-Roger... F-Fine...” he gasped, face red as he clutched at his shirt collar, as if the small fabric was suffocating him.  
John was terribly afraid but he tried his best to keep himself composed “Yes, that’s right. Now I need you to calm down. Roger needs you to calm down and breath. Can you do that?”  
A stiff nod. It was good enough.  
“Good, thank you. Okay, listen to my breaths and breath when I do whenever you can. Just try your best. In two three, out two three, in two three, out two three...” John coached, eyes carefully monitoring Freddie, watching with the desperate hope that he would calm down, his breathing returning to normal. Mercifully, after about five minutes, his breathing evened out.

John shuffled to sit beside an awfully exhausted looking Freddie, rubbing the small of his back. He shot him a weak smile, face pale and covered in a sheen of sweat.  
“You good?” John asked anxiously.  
Freddie wordlessly nodded, running his hands over his face with a sigh.  
“Good.” John said simply, letting them lapse into a silence, giving Freddie a moment to compose himself if he needed it.  
“Roger is alright, Freddie.” He assured after a moment.  
“Yeah...” Freddie said sceptically.  
John scrunched up his nose and shook his head “No, I mean it. Look, Brian isn’t here. He must be with Roger, he wouldn’t leave for any other reason. And if Brian needed our help he’d yell for it but the house is perfectly quiet. They’re both okay, okay?” he smiled softly when Freddie finally nodded “Okay, good. Now, why don’t we go looking for them?” he suggested.  
Freddie shot him an exhausted, vulnerable, wide eyed look before nodding. John extended a hand, helping him get up as they both walked off to find the other two. Oh, John desperately hoped he was right about them being okay.  
*******  
Brian smiled softly down at the man in his arms. Roger was lying against his chest, tucked safely in his arms as he watched the TV absentmindedly. He looked tired, eyes red, lids low. Brian wouldn’t be surprised if he dozed off any second now. He’d carry the poor boy back to bed if that happened. For now, though, he was simply grateful for the peace. Roger seemed to actually be relaxing, he looked exhausted but there was a relaxation there, an absence of a tension that he hadn’t realised had been there until it disappeared. He looked good. Brian squeezed his old friend close, the gentle, rhythmic shifting of his breaths soothing him into the certainty that Roger was indeed alive and well. What did they need a doctor for? They were better off comforting each other. They knew how to look after each other better than any doctor did.

Brian watched as Roger’s eyelids dropped lower and lower. So close to sleep, so very.... The door burst open, John and Freddie shuffling hastily in.  
“John? Fred? Is something wrong?” he asked, blood turning to ice. Brian sighed as he felt Roger jolt awake at the sudden entrance. He frowned as he looked up, taking in the exhausted looks of both men. He suddenly became terrified that something had seriously gone wrong.  
“We’re fine, everything is fine.” John assured.  
Freddie all but collapsed on top of them both, hugging both men in one swift motion “You... You bastards you scared the shit out of me! Don’t just leave like that, do you have any idea how scared I was? I thought... You utter dicks.” He peppered kisses over both their faces.

Brian chuckled in amusement, hugging him back “Sorry, Fred. Really, I am.” He said earnestly, feeling genuine guilt. He knew he would have been scared sick if he woke up to Roger gone and no explanation. Freddie must have noticed his guilty brooding as he shook his head.  
“Well, no harm done. But what are you two idiots doing up? It’s well into the night.” Freddie pointed out.  
Brian glanced out of the window, he could see nothing.  
“We both needed to get up and about a bit before we went to bed. I think it’s about time we headed back though. This one is half asleep.” He said with a fond smile.  
“Huh?” Roger looked around blearily, evidently not entirely awake. His head was a leaden weight, not letting him leave his resting point on Brian’s chest. Brian grinned, it was damn cute.  
John smiled warmly “Yes, I think bed sounds about right. Do you need help there, Bri?”  
Brian shook his head “I’ve got it. This one,” he said, hoisting Roger up “Is about as heavy as a feather. I always told him he should eat more.” He declared as he carried Roger out the door, the blonde jolting awake once again at the sudden movement. The other two followed.

Brian gently set Roger down on the covers, he’d passed out on the way up the stairs. He was a bit concerned, Roger seemed so emotionally drained, he’d been sleepy all day. Well, he supposed it made sense. Hopefully, he’d be better tomorrow, a proper night’s sleep should do him the world of good. Freddie settled in bed beside Roger, hugging his sleeping form protectively to his chest, like a lifefloat. John had started to settle on the ground again when he was stopped by Freddie’s words.  
“Don’t be ridiculous, darling. Enough is enough. Get up here!” he insisted.  
John blushed, hesitating, but Freddie was having none of it.  
“Come on. Come, come, come. You know I won’t let you be till you do.” He aid with a grin. He simply wouldn’t let the young man sleep on the floor any longer.  
Cheeks red, John crawled onto the bed, somehow slotting in on Roger’s opposite side with ease.  
“There,” Freddie beamed “Much better than that awful floor, don’t you think? And its nice and warm.”

Brian smiled at the heart warming sight before sliding down to sit leaning against the wall “I’ll take first shift, then.”  
Freddie frowned “Oh no you don’t, you’re not escaping that easy. Get up here you overgrown poodle!” Freddie exclaimed.  
Brian blinked up at him “But... Who will watch then?”  
“You’re clearly exhausted.” Freddie pointed out, eyebrow raised “Get up here, you need sleep.”  
“You did get quite ill earlier.” John pointed out.  
Freddie frowned in concern but didn’t say anything “Exactly. So you need to sleep or you’ll simply collapse. You’re a giant, darling, if you collapse we won’t be able to carry you. Besides, we are all light sleepers, roger won’t be able to get out without waking us. And anyway, look at him. He’s exhausted, he won’t be waking.”

Brian wasn’t convinced, though it was a compelling argument “That bed isn’t made for three grown men, let alone four!”  
Freddie waved a hand dismissively “You’re a stick, darling, you’ll hardly break the thing. Get up here before I go over there and make you, risking waking Roger.”  
Brian pouted “That’s playing dirty.” He grumbled as he slid into the bed beside the other two.  
Freddie grinned victoriously “That’s the best way to play!”  
Brian had to admit, this was better than the floor. His eyes drooped closed before he’d even realised he was tired. All four men slept better than they had in days, sleeping deeply through the whole night, comforted by each other’s warmth.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Tell me in the comments! Thanks so much for reading. You can find me on Instagram at bohemianrhapsodyroleplay


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